


Avengers, Remade

by queer_occurrences



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: And everything ends happy, Aromantic Asexual Natasha Romanov, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Pepper Potts, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexual Tony Stark, Deaf Clint Barton, Everyone Is Gay, Fix-It of Sorts, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), If you hated Endgame read this, Loki (Marvel) - Freeform, Multi, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, References to Norse Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 45,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queer_occurrences/pseuds/queer_occurrences
Summary: “I wanted to talk about the Avengers,” said Steve.“I thought you were retired.”“Retirement is hard. Also, I’m bad at it.”“So you’re considering joining?”“Well, I was wondering what you thought about the whole thing,” said Steve.“Me?” Tony perched on the corner of the desk. “I think it was my idea, so I’m incredibly biased. What do you think?”“I think the world still needs superheroes,” said Steve. “Which, I have to say, is kind of disappointing.”“The world always needs superheroes, Cap,” said Tony.“I know.” He met Tony’s eyes. “I’ve been asleep too long.”“Chop, chop,” said Tony.After Endgame, one has to wonder where it all went wrong.Sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Thor, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Peggy Carter/Janet Van Dyne, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 55
Kudos: 112





	1. natasha & bruce

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. I have a confession to make. It may or may not cause most of you to close this fic right now and never open it again.
> 
> I hate the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
> 
> I hate it mostly because I used to love it. But since then, Marvel has used and abused these characters and run them into the ground. Can we talk about the fact that the Avengers are, canonically, distant colleagues who see each other maybe once a year, tops? Can we talk about the fact that Natasha Romanoff’s primary insecurity as established in Avengers: Age of Ultron is her inability to have kids? That Clint Barton, wonderfully batshit in the comics, is somehow the bland, normal Avenger, and that they took away his hearing disability? That Steve canonically bashed Tony in the chest with his shield and then left him to die? I could go on, of course, but the fact is it’s a rare thing that doesn’t irritate me about the Avengers franchise these days. My friends who still see the movies and my friends who gave up long before I did unanimously stop listening when I start to rant. So this is more of an outlet than anything else.  
> It may be ridiculous, but I have this writer’s urge to protect characters and take them away to my own little alternate universe where they’re treated right. After reading about the events of Avengers: Endgame, I started to brainstorm a little thing called ‘what would I do if I had control over the Avengers franchise?’. It turned into this. I’m not sorry.
> 
> This fic will not be structured like a series of movies, because the Marvel movie formula is super boring on paper. It will mostly be a series of short-ish "episodes" spanning multiple chapters, each of which focuses primarily on a different character, relationship, scenario, or threat.
> 
> I'm imagining it should end up being more than 20 chapters, but 20 is a good, safe number and I'll start with it for now.
> 
> Warning: both comics and movie canon will be changed. Occasionally to a degree that could be called sacrilegious. If that is something you can’t deal with, you should probably stop reading now. When something is changed, it’ll be clear. Most of the characters’ backstories are the same, with some minor alterations. It’s the way things develop that changes.
> 
> (Of course, I don't actually have control over the Avengers franchise! So all rights, etc belong to Marvel, and by extension Disney.)

**Warnings: Semi-graphic depiction of a panic attack, some scattered swearing, bad Google Translate Russian. Stay safe and know your limits.**

There was a small red-haired woman in Bruce’s Yoga for the Mind and Body class every Wednesday. She had a nondescript face—pretty—with a dancing languid smile and liquid eyes. She moved through the poses like water.

She took Bruce aside one day at the end of class. 

“Hey,” she said, “I don’t think we’ve met. Natalie Rushman.” Her handshake was firmer than it looked. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Bruce hated those words, hated, hated those words, but he said yes.

She leaned in so that her lips were brushing his ear. He felt a possessive hand on his shoulder and stiffened.

“Relax,” Natalie whispered. “Try to act natural. My name is Natasha Romanoff. I’m an agent of SHIELD—“

Bruce tore away so fast he could feel her cold lipstick smear on the rim of his ear. His heart thumped like a monster in his chest. He folded his arms over it.

“Not interested,” he said.

“My boss wants to meet you,” said Natalie/Natasha. “He’s heard great things—“

“I really—I’m really—really not interested. I don’t want to—stay away from me, okay? I don’t want to—“

“Hey,” said Natasha, her ruby lips curving. “It’s okay—“

“Go away.” He stumbled back, trying to breathe. He breathed in and let it out. In and out. In and out. The world was hazy and green. 

He hit the ground hard.

Natasha’s hand was on his arm. He threw her off with inhuman strength.

“Bruce,” said a calm voice quietly. Bruce shook his head.

In. Out. In. Out.

“Bruce. Stay with me, okay? Breathe.”

He found that he was sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth, his breath coming in short, shallow pants. Natasha’s face swum in and out of focus.

“You’re safe. Listen to me. You’re safe. I’m not going to tell anyone where you are.”

The room milled around her. No one seemed to have noticed him fall. The world was a strange place.

“Bruce. Are you with me?”

He met her eyes and breathed out.

“Okay, good,” she said. “That’s good. Keep breathing.” 

She didn’t try to touch him again. He wondered if he’d hurt her.

“Di’ I…di’ I hur’ you?” he rasped out.

“No,” said Natasha, “no. No, you didn’t.” She stroked his arm. He breathed in and let it out.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“Okay,” said Natasha. “Good.”

“I don’t want to meet your boss,” said Bruce.

Natasha laughed. “Yeah, I got that.” 

Bruce chuckled weakly. 

Something stiff and rectangular was pressed into his hand. 

“This is my card, okay? If you need me, I want you to call me.”

“I don’t need anybody,” said Bruce.

“Everybody needs somebody,” said Natasha. “If you need me, call. I’ll pick up.”

She helped him up with a perfectly manicured hand. 

“Bye, Bruce,” she said.

“Bye, Natasha,” said Bruce, but she was already gone.

+++

When Natalia Alianovna Romanova came to the States, the first thing she did was look up her parents.

Her captor, Clint Barton, wanted her to report to SHIELD immediately for “interviews”—interrogation—and “testing”—torture. 

“Иди трахни себя,” Natalia told him in smooth, even Russian.  _ Go fuck yourself. _

She found an address and a phone number within five minutes of touching down at the Kennedy Airport. While Clint called the Uber, she made a call of her own, curved red fingernails drumming on her knee.

When she spoke, she spoke in Russian.

“Привет, мама,” she said.  _ Hello, mother. _

+++

They met in a hole-in-the-wall cafe on the outskirts of New York. Samara Romanova was a mousy woman, her face obscured by an explosion of hair, with twitchy hands and steel eyes.

“As soon as I heard from you, I knew I had to come,” she said.

“Why did you give me to them?” said Natalia quietly. She bit into her biscotti and smiled a thin smile.

“They offered me passage through the Iron Curtain,” said Samara. “I am not proud of it. But you would not survive if we stayed as we were. Your father was dead. I could not provide for you. And you could not have made the journey. I wanted to give you a chance.” She leaned forward, smiling. “And you took it. And you thrived. You look so beautiful, Natalia, мой дорогой.”  _ My darling. _

Her ragged fingertips brushed Natalia’s cheek. Natalia smiled, too.

“I have to go,” said Natalia.

The chair legs scraped on the tile floor as she stood.

“Not so soon,” said Samala. “When can I see you again? Can I have your number?”

Natalia walked to the door, hips swaying from side to side. She turned with her hand on the doorknob.

“Не звони мне,” she said. “я позвоню тебе.”

_ Don’t call me. I’ll call you. _

The bell on the door tinkled behind her as she slipped out.

Lifting her black umbrella over her red hair, Natalia disappeared into the New York streets.

+++

-3 years later-

+++

Bruce was making pancakes when a knock on the door shattered the comforting sizzling sound of the small apartment. He jumped, and the pancake he had been flipping folded in half.

He ran to the door and stared out through the peephole. The face of General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross stared back—grey and lined with stony angles, sporting a thick handlebar moustache.

Behind him were no less than thirty men with assault rifles. Probably thirty more Bruce couldn’t see.

“Bruce Banner,” Ross yelled, “you are wanted for the death of—“

Bruce turned and sprinted for his bedroom. There was a small grey suitcase packed underneath the bed, and he lugged it out and started to wheel it to the back door in the pantry of the apartment.

“We have you surrounded,” General Ross said from outside.

Bruce stared at the kitchen window. He would survive the drop. Some—oh, six hundred—people unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity when he turned would not. Bullets would be useless. He would be unstoppable, merciless, and very, very angry in the middle of downtown New York.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet and a battered burner phone. Rifling through the wallet to the back, he slid the card out from between a Chipotle receipt and a membership confirmation for the local gym.

Natasha Romanoff, the card read.

S.H.I.E.L.D.

And a phone number.

Bruce’s hands shook as he dialed.

She picked up after one ring.

“Natasha?”

“Bruce. What do you need?”

“Well, ah—see, I know I’m kind of selling my soul to the devil here—“

“The devil isn’t real, and I’m much more dangerous.”

“Right. Uh—“

“Step out with your hands above your head,” said General Ross, “or we will shoot—“

“There’s this guy,” said Bruce. “He’s been chasing me for a long time. General—General Thaddeus Ross.”

“Right,” said Natasha. “Texting the Director right now. What’s your location?”

“Uh—121 Henry Street, unit eight?”

“Got it. Don’t worry. We’ve got you covered.”

“There are people with guns outside my apartment.”

“Try to stay calm,” said Natasha.

“Trying.”

“Bruce,” said Natasha, “we’ve got you. Ross wouldn’t do a thing to anyone who’s under SHIELD’s protection.”

“And, uh, what am I going to have to do for you guys?”

“We’ll keep you posted,” said Natasha. “If you look outside, you’ll see you’re alone.”

“Wow,” said Bruce. “Already?”

“SHIELD takes care of their own,” said Natasha. “Call if you need anything else.”

“Right. Uh—thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Wait—Natasha—”

“Yes?”

“You’ll need a favor,” said Bruce. “Won’t you?”

Natasha was silent for a long time.

“I’ll keep you posted,” she said.

She hung up, leaving Bruce alone with the stench of burning pancakes and his own sweat.


	2. tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: not many this time, but a veiled reference to Tony's ever so slightly suicidal tendencies, and a canonical character "death."**

“Sir,” said the crisp, British-accented voice of JARVIS, “Director Fury of SHIELD wishes to speak with you.”

“Tell him to schedule a meeting,” said Tony. He bobbed along to the blaring music that filled the workshop, rocketing from one desk to another on his wheelie chair, spinning as he went. The volume was turned up so loud that the lyrics were indistinguishable. His eardrums were screaming. In a good way.

“He did,” said JARVIS. “You missed it.”

Tony spun another time, for good measure. “Well, I can’t see him now. Dum-E’s got a screw loose. Dum-E, come here.” He waved a hand at the bot. Dum-E turned and started to roll away. “Dum-E, do not pretend you didn’t hear me—I know you heard me—you can’t hide forever! DUM-E!”

“Sir,” said JARVIS.

Tony sighed. 

“Tell him I’ll be up in a minute,” he said.

“Very good, sir. And if I might suggest, sir, changing into something slightly more presentable—“

“Don’t push it.”

+++

Stark Tower had approximately one hundred and forty seven floors. Tony regularly used four of them. There was the gym, on the twenty-fifth floor. The workshop, on the sixtieth. The screen room, stocked with seven different Stark TV prototypes, on the sixty-fourth. And Tony’s office, on the hundred-and-eighth.

“Hello, Nick,” said Tony, stepping out of the elevator.

Nick Fury, dressed in an ebony suit and tie with shiny black shoes, looked Tony up and down. He took in the oil-stained Rolling Stones T-shirt and ripped-up jeans with wordless disdain.

“Mr. Stark,” he said. “There’s been a development.”

“Yeah, I figured,” said Tony. “Look, I have a very busy schedule today, so it’d better be important.”

“I checked your schedule with Miss Potts before coming.”

“Damn.” 

“This is important,” said Fury.

With a groan, Tony strode over to the voluminous white chair (also with wheels) behind his desk and collapsed into it. 

“I’m listening,” he said. Spinning lazy circles, he started to twiddle his thumbs.

“We’ve been hearing rumors,” said Fury. “Our sources in the US government—“

“Tell the US government they can shove whatever it is up their asses. Problem solved.” He stood, pushing the chair back. “Now, if you’ll exit this way—“

“You want the US government to shove Captain America up their asses?”

Tony froze.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said, do you want—“

“I know what you said, but what do you mean, Captain America? You could mean anything, you could mean they’re making more weaponized boxer briefs with his face on them, it could mean—“

“They have those?”

“Yes, they do. I’ll send you a link. But what do you mean, Captain America?”

“According to our sources, the government thinks they’ve found him.”

“What?” said Tony. “Found who?”

“Captain America.”

Tony sat down again. “They haven’t.”

“They haven’t yet,” Fury agreed. “But with the resources of Stark Industries—“

“No.”

“Do you have any idea what this means?” said Fury.

“We’ve got another crackpot scientist saying they’ve found Captain America,” said Tony. “Big whoop.”

“They’ve got real evidence, Stark, this could be—”

“It could be,” said Tony. “But it never is. Do you understand, Nick? It never is.”

“Your father wouldn’t have—”

“Do not,” said Tony, “use my father against me. My father blew millions, billions—too much—of dollars chasing a dead man. I am not going to make the same mistake.”

“Since then, Stark Industries has—”

“Talk to my CEO,” said Tony. “I don’t have the authority—”

“All due respect—”

“Talk to Pepper.”

“Pepper won’t do it.”

“And you think I will?”

“Tony,” said Fury, “I know it’s hard—”

“Shut up,” said Tony. “Shut up.”

“Your father would want you to do this.”

“My father is dead,” said Tony. “And so is Steve Rogers. God, Nick. Have some respect.”

“If we can find him—”

“He’s better off in the ice,” said Tony.

Fury stared. 

“You really mean that,” he said quietly.

“Every word.”

“Stark—”

“I am not wasting one more penny trying to bring him back. And if you’ve got any sense, you won’t either.”

“If we had Captain America, the Avengers would be more than the pipe dream they are now. They could be real.”

“They can be real anyway.”

“They need a leader,” said Fury. “And I intend to give them one.”

He turned to the door.

“Let him lie, Nick,” Tony yelled after Fury’s retreating back.

“Let me know how that works out for you,” said Fury, and swept out.

+++

Five minutes after Fury left, Tony had discovered the bag of gummy bears Pepper had hidden from him “for his own good” and was eating them all in one sitting with gusto.

“Sir,” said JARVIS.

“No,” said Tony. “Go away.”

“I’m afraid I can’t, sir. You have a call—“

“Ignore it.”

“It’s from 305 West End Assisted Living.”

“Well, shit,” said Tony. “Put ‘em through.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Tony Stark, how can I help you?”

“Mr. Stark, I’m Bernard at 305 West End—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know who you are, is it Janet or Peggy?”

“Sir?”

“Miss Van Dyne,” said Tony, “Or Miss Carter?”

“Miss Carter—“

“Shit.”

“—wanted me to request that you come by tomorrow, ten o’clock sharp?”

“Right. Right, see, ten doesn’t really work for me, or…or ever. Can you put her off forever, do you think?”

“Uh, sir, I don’t—“

“Forget it. ‘Once more unto the breach,’ and all that. Tell her I’ll be there. And could you maybe give her extra—I don’t know, extra honey in her tea, or something? Put her in a good mood for me?”

“That’s not my job, sir, but I can try to pass it on to the nurses if you—“

“No, never mind. Actually, could you?”

“I suppose so, sir.”

“Good man. Okay. Thanks a million, Bernard.”

He hung up.

“Honey in her tea, sir?” said JARVIS.

“Whatever it takes,” said Tony.

+++

Margaret Carter, founder of SHIELD, was seated at her bedside table examining the contents of a Manila folder. She looked up when Tony entered.

“Tony,” said Peggy, “it’s been so long.” Her smile wrinkled her face. “You look more like Howard by the day.”

Tony bent down and kissed her hand. He straightened.

“And you look like a…a wise old oak tree,” he said.

Peggy’s eyes flickered up to the ceiling, ever so briefly. “You always knew how to flatter a lady.”

Tony sank onto the bed, once again like a small child having the world explained to him by his formidable godmother.

“So,” he said. “You talked to Nick?”

“I talked to Director Fury,” said Peggy with a faint hint of disapproval. “He says you’re withholding Stark Industries’ support for a government project to bring back Captain America?”

“I know what you’re going to say,” said Tony.

Peggy turned back to the folder. “Now, do you?” she muttered.

“My father would have wanted—“

“Tony,” said Peggy, “this has nothing to do with your father or with you.”

Tony stared.

“Yeah, it does,” he said. “It’s my company, it’s my funds—“

“This is about the world,” said Peggy severely. “And the many, many people in it who have been saved, and could be saved, by Steve Rogers.”

“Well, yeah,” said Tony, “okay, but this—there’s no evidence, okay, it’s all rumors, it’s—“

“Tony?”

“What?”

“Shh,” said Peggy.

She pressed a small black button on her desk. “Janet, darling?”

“What is it, Pegs?” said a bright female voice, crackling over the intercom.

“Could you bring the iPad over here? I want to show Tony something.”

“Oh, Tony’s here? Perfect! Wonderful! I’ll bring it right away.”

“Thank you, Janet.” Peggy released the button. 

A few moments later, Janet Van Dyne, all of eighty with sparkling eyes and the energy of a whole hive of worker bees, was flinging the door open and throwing her arms around Tony.

“You’ve grown so much,” she said, beaming.

“Thanks, Jan,” said Tony.

“The iPad, please, dear,” said Peggy.

“Right! I almost forgot.” She handed it over. “All right, I’ll leave you guys to it, then. What’re you doing?”

“Saving Steve Rogers,” said Peggy.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” said Janet.

“Hear, hear,” said Peggy. “See you at knitting class, darling.”

Janet pecked her on the lips. 

“Later,” she said.

“Later,” Peggy echoed.

The door closed.

“Now, Tony,” she said, “I’d like you to look at these scans of a specific portion of the Arctic Ocean—“

“Why this part?”

“Well, a scientist studying a certain type of walrus was scanning the surface, looking for a large group to focus his studies on, I believe, and accidentally picked up frozen forms far beneath the surface.”

“A surface scanner shouldn’t have done that.”

“He didn’t have a surface scanner. He had a used Stark Industries thermal scanner bought off eBay.”

“Well, that’s just—“

“Look at the photos, Tony.” 

Reluctantly, Tony took the iPad. It displayed a thermal scan—a lot of cold, a few scattered lumps, and—a distinctly human form.

“He’s very cold, but the fact that he’s somehow managed to retain any body heat at all means he must be still alive,” said Peggy. “And there’s only one person who could still be alive after being frozen solid under one hundred fifty feet of ice.”

“Oh, my God,” said Tony.

“You have to save him,” said Peggy. “Not for him. Not for me. Not for Howard. For everyone. The world needs Captain America. And you can bring him back to them.”

+++

Tony watched the floors change in the elevator. Fifty-nine. Sixty. Sixty-one. Sixty-two.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

Sixty-three…

“Call Director Fury for me.”

“Of course, sir.”

Sixty-four.

The elevator opened, and Tony stepped out.


	3. steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: References to canonical character “death,” references to religious beliefs about the afterlife, references to trauma due to the death of friends and dislocation. Discussion of isolation and sensory overload. References to nuclear weaponry, war. Use your best judgement.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The news stuff Steve watches at the end is not really accurate re current events, nor is it intended to be!

Clint Barton woke to his boyfriend, Phil Coulson, yelling at the phone.

Of course, the yelling was not what had woken him up. Clint felt for his hearing aids and couldn’t find them. He threw a pillow at Coulson, who blocked it effortlessly.

_ It’s 2 in the morning,  _ he signed. Coulson didn’t seem to notice. 

Clint frowned, staring at Coulson’s lips.

_ Of course—is he—what is he—healthy?  _ Coulson was saying. Distinctly:  _ he’s alive? How is he alive? _

Clint waved to get Coulson’s attention. Coulson raised an eyebrow.

_ What is going on?  _ signed Clint.

_ Captain America,  _ Coulson signed back, his hands impatient, and then said into the phone,  _ I’ll be right there, sir. _

_ Really?  _ Clint signed.

_ Yes,  _ Coulson replied with one hand, the other pulling up his slacks.

Clint fell back onto the mattress.

_ This early?  _ he signed at the ceiling.

+++

Steve Rogers woke up.

He looked around. The room was white, with a simple fan rotating slowly above him. Something was beeping next to him.

“Am I dead?” he asked.

No one answered. The beeping continued at a steady pace.

“Is this heaven?”

He noticed IV tubes dangling from his wrists.

“Oh,” he said. “I’m in the hospital. That makes more sense.”

The door opened. A black man in a suit stepped in. “Captain Rogers?”

“Hi,” said Steve. “So I’m not dead.”

“No,” said the man. “But you’ve been out for quite a while.”

“How long?”

“Well,” said the man, “you were frozen. In the Arctic. And it took awhile for us to have the technology to get you out. In the end, Howard Stark’s son, Anthony Stark, provided funding and equipment, and we were able to—“

“Wait,” said Steve. “His son?”

“Captain Rogers,” said the man, “I’m sorry to say that you’ve been asleep for approximately sixty-eight years.”

Steve stared at the wall. It was blank and white. He looked down at his wrists, then back up at the man. 

“Did we win?” he asked.

+++

“Nick, I have a press conference in, like, two minutes, okay, so make it fast—“

“He’s quitting,” said Fury.

“I’m sorry,” said Tony, “what?”

+++

SHIELD put him up in a one-bedroom in Brooklyn. They added 1940’s furniture and, at his request, a snazzy modern television. “All expenses paid,” they said, but the first thing that Steve had to do was get a job.

Before he did that, though, he spent a day shut up in his bedroom drawing with a notebook and set of pencils he had bought from the hospital gift shop. 

It wasn’t too much. He could pay SHIELD back, for all of it, when he got a job. He had to do that. He had to get a job.

He would do that tomorrow. 

Eating seemed like a luxury he couldn’t afford. He had died once, and maybe he would again. The growling of his stomach seemed like a mistake, like his body didn’t understand. He was supposed to be dead.

Peggy’s nose was all wrong. He erased it and started over.

+++

By the second day, the pangs in his stomach became too great for him to ignore. Steve left the apartment for the first time. He wandered down the streets of Brooklyn asking people for directions to the nearest grocery store.

“Excuse me—“

“Hi—“

“Ma’am—“

“Sir—“

“Miss—“

“If you could just—“

He finally stumbled almost by accident on some place called the Food Emporium. He spent about an hour roaming up and down the aisles, pulling off the shelves everything that had a vague sense of familiarity. He put about ten boxes of Chex cereal into his cart before he returned to himself and replaced five of them. 

At checkout, he piled all of his treasures onto the conveyor belt.

“That’ll be 673.46,” said the woman briskly.

Steve stared.

“Dollars?” he said.

+++

He ended up putting back everything but one box of Chex cereal and a rotisserie chicken. The total came to $10.22. He opened the chicken as soon as he was outside and started peeling off tiny threads of meat. His stomach growled. He ignored it.

He had to get a job.

Steve turned around. The brightly lit  _ Food Emporium  _ sign glared at him. 

_ Now Hiring  _ flickered in the window.

+++

“So,” said a woman with beaded glasses, “you think you have what it takes to be a grocery store clerk?”

Steve tried to smile normally.

“You’re fast?”

“Pretty fast.”

“How’s your memory?”

“Uh,” said Steve. “It’s okay.”

“Okay? We need better than okay. Recite as many of these numbers back to me as you can. 35836842156794335654444433431 ninety-seven.”

“35836842156794335654444433431 ninety-seven,” said Steve dutifully.

The woman stared at him, mouth agape.

“Okay,” she said. She made a mark on her clipboard. “That’s…that’s okay.”

+++

The streets of Brooklyn were too much. Too loud. Everything was loud. Cars honking. People talking. Too many smells. Everything smelled. Steve clutched his groceries to his chest and almost ran back to his apartment. Almost, because when he ran for real—even a slow jog—people stared.

His throat was parched, which he was trying to ignore. The thought of water was falling, freezing, dying and cold. Too much.

+++

He sat in front of the TV that night eating Family Size Corn Chex (Gluten Free!) by the handful and flipping through the channels—bright, clear cartoons with loud noises, flashes and bangs, dramas and comedies and gunshots, weepy couples and people standing in front of graves—until he reached the news. FOX, it read in the corner, and a woman was talking about a war in Afghanistan.

The screen flashed with soldiers in uniform, bodies, gunfire, and—

“Congress has authorized the use of nuclear weaponry—“

A mushroom cloud turned the screen white. Steve swallowed.


	4. steve & tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: mention of death of friends, death of parents, emotional manipulation, dub-con kiss between exes, past alcoholism. Some scattered swearing. References to self-worth issues and toxic hero-worship.**

Tony paced back and forth in his office.

“He can’t quit, he’s Captain America—“

“He’s Captain America, he can do whatever the hell he wants,” Fury countered.

“I put all my money into saving his star spangled ass, and then he goes and does this?”

“He sacrificed everything for our country.”

“And he can’t sacrifice a little more?”

“He’s tired, Stark,” said Fury. “If you ask me, his retirement isn’t going to last. All he needs is a bit of time to get his bearings.”

“And if that time passes, and he doesn’t come back?”

“We go to plan B.”

Tony turned. “What’s plan B?”

“We don’t have one yet.” Fury folded his hands on Tony’s desk.

“Hey,” said Tony, “what—why are you sitting in my chair? Get out of my chair. Buy your own.”

“Your office only has one. That’s on you. Now, here’s what we need to do regarding Captain America. We need to play on his weaknesses.”

Tony frowned. “He has weaknesses?”

“Everyone has weaknesses. He has more than most people, especially now.”

“He’s Captain America. What are his weaknesses?”

“Nostalgia,” said Fury. “Nostalgia, camaraderie, and family.”

Tony stopped.

“We’re not his family, Nick,” he said. “His family’s dead.”

“There’s such a thing as ‘found family’—“

“Yeah, that’s dead too.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“So, what,” said Tony, “we’re going to pretend like the Avengers is going to be some kind of buddy-buddy thing that’ll make him less totally fucking alone? Some kind of family thing, and then surprise surprise, we’re a bunch of jackasses who are affectionate colleagues at best?”

Fury spun a slow circle. 

“Has anyone ever told you how much you look like your father?” he said.

Tony stopped pacing.

“No,” said Tony.

“Consider it. That’s all I’m saying. A familiar face could go a long way.”

“I am not using my resemblance to my dead dad to emotionally manipulate Captain America. That is something that I am not doing.”

“You sure about that?”

“Take that smug look and shove it up your ass, Nick. I might have backed down before, but I won’t this time.”

“Hmm.”

“Some things you don’t compromise on,” said Tony. “What other options do we have? Who else is on our list?”

Fury leaned back in the chair.

“We’ve gone over this,” he said. “SHIELD has a grand total of one powered under our belt, and he’s highly dangerous, volatile, and unpredictable.”

“The scientist.”

“Yes. And I have two agents I’d like to add to the roster.”

“I don’t want your lapdogs.”

“Right now, that’s immaterial. Even four people is nothing. Not without Captain America to lead.”

Tony sighed.

+++

“Sir?”

“Calm down, Jarvis, I know what I’m doing, it’s not going to light on fire—“

A spark flickered and caught in the prototype phone’s exposed circuits. Dum-E doused Tony with the fire extinguisher.

“No, not me,” said Tony, spluttering, “the—“

“Sir,” said JARVIS, “Captain Rogers is in your waiting room.”

Tony pushed his hair out of his face. Dum-E thwacked the phone with the fire extinguisher. “NO—Dum-E—“

“Sir?” 

“I have a waiting room?”

“You do. On the first floor. And, like I mentioned, Captain Rogers is waiting in it.”

Tony blinked. “You didn’t say that.”

“I did, sir.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I must assure you I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Sir,” said JARVIS, “you’re stalling.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Sir.”

“Right. I’ll…” He swept the remains of the phone into the trash can and patted Dum-E on the claw. “Useless,” he muttered. “Absolutely useless. Uh, I’ll go…”

He swallowed.

“I’ll go talk to Captain America.”

“That’s the spirit, sir. And, might I add—good luck.”

+++

Steven Grant Rogers, aka Captain America, was sitting in a chair in Tony’s waiting room reading a trashy magazine, wearing a button-down shirt and tan pants. Tony was probably going to faint. Any second now. 

Come on, oblivion.

Captain America looked up. His eyes were incredibly blue.

“Hi,” he said. “You’re Tony Stark? My name’s Steve Rogers.”

“Oh,” said Tony. “Uh.”

A hand was extended to him. He took it. Steve Rogers had strong hands. Not painful. Just…strong. Firm. Like he knew his own strength, and how to control it. His skin was warm.

“Hi,” said Tony. “I know who you are.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “Good.”

“You’re…you’re Captain America. And I’m Tony Stark.”

“Good,” said Steve again. His lips turned up at the corners. “I’m in the right place, then.”

“Can’t miss the giant letters in the sky,” said Tony. He was still holding Steve’s hand. He let it drop, and stuck his traitorous hands in the pockets of his jacket instead.

Steve smiled. Well, his lips twitched. He had a strange, empty look in his eyes, like he was looking through Tony and seeing someone else. Tony hated it.

There was a strange not-rightness about Steve, too. Not quite human, in an unquantifiable way. He moved weird. Tony had the strange urge that he got when he looked at a piece of particularly advanced tech—the urge to take Steve apart to figure out how he worked.

“Well, let’s get in the elevator,” said Tony, “and go to the—do you know elevators?”

“Kind of.”

“You’ll love them, they’re great. Take you up and down. We’re going to the hundred-and-eighth floor.” 

He pushed the button. The elevator doors slid open.

“How many floors are there?” Steve asked, following him inside.

“One hundred and forty seven. I think. You’ll have to ask Pepper.”

“Pepper?”

The doors closed. The elevator jolted into motion.

“My CEO. Used to be my assistant. I can never keep assistants. I should hire a new assistant. I can’t keep track of all my paperwork. JARVIS?”

“You’re rambling, sir,” said JARVIS.

Tony watched Steve for a reaction. Steve stared straight ahead.

“That’s JARVIS,” said Tony.

“Howard’s butler, right?” said Steve.

“Oh, no, he’s—“ Tony laughed. “He’s…long dead. But I made an AI, and I named him Jarvis, because I’m creepy like that.”

“Oh,” said Steve.

“AI stands for artificial intelligence.”

“Right,” said Steve.

“Artificial intelligence is basically, it’s a robot, but it acts like a human?”

“Are those…common?” said Steve.

“No,” said Tony. “I’m just a genius.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “That’s—cool.”

The elevator dinged to a stop.

“That was fast,” said Steve.

“Hundred and forty seven floors, gotta have a fast elevator. Necessity. Come on, my office, this way…”

+++

“So,” said Tony, “there’s only one chair. You can sit in it, if you like.”

“No,” said Steve, “I don’t have to—“

“No, really. I’ll just pace anyway. Go ahead. Sit.”

Steve sank into the white chair, his body lined with tension.

“So,” he said. “I have a few questions.”

“Let me go ahead and answer those for you,” said Tony. “Dad died in a car crash, along with Mom. I was twenty-one, no need to apologize, these things happen, he was a shit dad and I hated him, anyway.”

Steve’s face went horribly blank and white.

“Wait,” said Tony. “Oh. Wait.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Steve.

“No, I’m,” said Tony, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, that was—incredibly rude, wasn’t it? No, my dad, he, uh—he lived a good, long life, and he wasn’t that bad, you know, he was—“

Steve’s eyes slid closed. He had long eyelashes, kind of graceful, sweeping down over his face when he closed his eyes. Like a horse. “It’s fine, Tony.”

“No, I—“ 

“Really. I wasn’t holding out hope. But I’m…really sorry.”

“No. Please don’t be. I don’t want you to be. I’m doing fine. Not traumatized or anything. Just ask my numerous ex-girlfriends. And, uh. And boyfriends." 

“Okay,” said Steve. “You know, I actually didn’t come here to talk about Howard.”

“Wow,” said Tony. “Wow. Then I screwed things up twice as much.”

“I wanted to talk about the Avengers,” said Steve.

“I thought you were retired.”

“Retirement is hard,” said Steve. “Also, I’m bad at it.”

“So you’re considering joining?”

“Well, I was wondering what you thought about the whole thing,” said Steve.

“Me?” Tony perched on the corner of the desk. “I think it was my idea, so I’m incredibly biased. What do you think?”

“I think the world still needs superheroes,” said Steve. “Which, I have to say, is kind of disappointing.”

“The world always needs superheroes, Cap,” said Tony.

“I know.” He met Tony’s eyes. “I’ve been asleep too long.”

“Chop, chop,” said Tony.

They shared a brief smile.

“Do we have any names?” Steve asked.

“Fury has some guy, a scientist, who turns into a giant green rage monster when he gets mad. And he has some minions he wants to saddle us with.”

“Who’re the minions?”

“It doesn’t matter who the minions are. They’re minions. It’s their thing.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Steve. “Everyone’s their own person on some level.”

“You’re not getting to that level with any of Fury’s.”

“Maybe,” said Steve. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think of Fury?”

“He’s Fury,” said Tony. “He’s…I don’t know. Powerful. Useful. Dangerous.”

“Trustworthy?”

Tony laughed. “Definitely not.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully.

“Let’s take him out of the equation, then,” said Steve. “Approach these people on their own terms. As people, not as agents.”

“Damn, Cap,” said Tony. “You sure you want to do that?”

“I’m tired of guys in power. And I’m tired of bullies.”

“You sound like a third grader.”

Steve looked up, eyes wide and innocent.

“Bully,” he said.

Tony let out a snort of surprised laughter.

+++

At the end of the day, Tony sat in the screen room tinkering with his prototype StarkWatch while watching Star Wars for the hundred and ten thousandth time.

“Yeah, Han, go kiss Leia, even though she tells you to stop,” he murmured. “That’s fine…no problem…who cares about consent, consent is…”

“Sir,” said JARVIS, “Miss Potts is calling.”

“Consent is incredibly important, the most important thing, put her through. Hi, Pepper.”

“Tony,” said Pepper. “How are you?”

Because he knew Pepper, he knew she was sitting at her big STARK Industries desk in slacks and the green blouse, or maybe the blue one, sipping cheap—“inexpensive, Tony”—champagne. Her pinkie was tapping on the rim of the glass. She was smiling. He could hear it in her voice.

“Good, uh,” said Tony. “I met Captain America today.”

“You cracked?”

“Doubt. You’re doubting me. You traitor. No, he…he actually came to see me.”

He remembered, with a painful jolt, sitting with Pepper in his office waiting to hear if Steve was going to wake up. Getting the text from Fury, “he’s awake,” and throwing his arms around Pepper and screaming into her shoulder.

He kissed her on the lips that night for the first time in over a year.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” she had said then, “but nothing’s changed between us. I can’t…I can’t.”

“Yeah,” he had said. “I get that.”

Now, Pepper’s voice held a hint of ice. But because he knew her, Tony knew that the ice wasn’t directed at him. It was directed at Steve. 

“What did he want?” Pepper asked.

Tony allowed himself a small smile.

“He wanted to talk about the Avengers,” he said.

“And what did you say?”

“Well,” said Tony, “I ranted about my dead dad, dissed Nick Fury, and fangirled over his body. Silently. The last one was silent, thank God.”

“Oh, Tony,” said Pepper.

“I don’t like that tone. That tone is very—it’s very judgemental.”

“Are you okay? Are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah,” said Tony. “I’m fine.”

“You are?”

“He’s just—he’s so—how is he so perfect? You know what I mean? He’s polite, he’s smart, he’s strong—those muscles, Pep, you should see them, they’re like big, fat, I don’t know, chicken wings. Spectacular. And he’s exactly what my dad always said he was. He’s…” Tony sighed.

“Don’t let him get to you, Tony.”

“He’s not getting to me. He’s not. Not even trying to. He’s been nice. Really nice. It’s been…I don’t know. Nice.”

“Okay,” said Pepper. “That’s good.”

“I guess I have a type,” said Tony. “Gorgeous. Unattainable.” He adopted a British falsetto. “Practically perfect in every way.”

“Made out in your head to be much better than they actually are,” said Pepper. “Tony, you sound like you’re drinking.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you drinking?”

“No,” said Tony. “I’m watching Star Wars. Again.”

“Good,” said Pepper. 

She paused for one breath. Two.

“I’m proud of you,” she said.

Tony bowed his head and closed his eyes.

“Thanks, Pep,” he said.


	5. the avengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: Some scattered swearing. Mild references to sex. Vague references to suicidal tendencies. More bad Google Translate Russian. References to death of family, death of friends. Stay safe, everyone.**

It took Tony all of seven and a half minutes to hack into a high-security layer of the SHIELD database and extract the names, locations, and contact information of Nick Fury’s proposed candidates for the Avengers Initiative. Natasha Romanoff. Clinton Barton. Bruce Banner.

From there, it took about seventy seconds to ping all of their secure-line phone numbers with the location of an abandoned warehouse in the run-down part of Brooklyn.

Steve and Tony stood on the sidewalk outside of STARK Tower. Steve was wearing a Stark Industries cap, leaning over Tony’s shoulder, peering at the StarkPhone in Tony’s hands.

“And this is called an Uber?” he said.

“The cars are called Ubers,” said Tony. “The organization is called Uber. And this—“ He waved the phone. “Is a StarkPhone. Which is what we are using, to call an Uber.”

Steve blinked at him.

“You’re rich,” said Steve.

“I am,” said Tony. “And this is news to you because…?”

“Don’t you have, like, a personal limo service?”

“Of course I do. But I wanted to show you Uber. It’s practical. Useful. Very Captain America.”

“Thanks?”

“Give me your phone. I’ll make you an account.”

Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out—

“Oh, no,” said Tony. “No, no, no. They gave you an iPhone?”

“Uh—“ Steve looked down at it. “Is that what this is?”

“It’s like a dinosaur. Pathetic.” He rummaged in his jacket. “Here. Catch.” He flung a shiny new phone in Steve’s direction.

Steve caught it one-handed and smiled, tiny and real and proud.

“That’s a prototype,” said Tony. “Probably worth a couple thousand dollars, so try not to drop it.”

“You just threw it,” said Steve.

“Yeah, well, it’s my prototype.”

“What does it do?”

“What does it—it does what a phone does. Better. And it may or may not be designed to spontaneously combust if you use it to call Apple.”

“What’s Apple?” said Steve.

“Keep asking me that, and I might just keep you around,” said Tony.

+++

Steve swung around, scanning the corners and shadows of the warehouse for movement.

“No one came,” said Tony.

Steve sighed.

“Holy shit, Nat,” said a voice from the rafters. “It’s really him.”

“Could be a really good mask,” said a cool, feminine voice from behind them. 

Steve spun to face it.

A woman with red hair in a black catsuit advanced toward them with a gun in each hand. 

“Drop your weapons,” she said.

“We’re unarmed,” said Steve.

He heard the whirr of some kind of technology before he saw the light of the repulsor and the glint of red and gold on Tony’s outstretched hand.

“Really, Tony?” said Steve.

“I told you I thought the no weapons rule was dumb,” said Tony, his eyes fixed on the woman.

“But you said you’d follow it anyway.”

“I lied.”

“Great,” said Steve.

“My partner has an arrow pointed at the back of your head,” Natasha told Steve. “And he never misses. So talk fast. Why did you lure us here?”

“Lure is a strong word,” said Steve.

“He didn’t lure you,” said Tony. “I did.”

“We wanted to talk to you,” said Steve, “because we need your help.”

“He wanted to talk to you away from Fury,” said Tony.

“Tony.”

“What? I’m translating.”

“Are you really Captain America?” said the voice from the rafters.

Steve squinted at the ceiling. “Yeah,” he said. “Clinton Barton?”

There was a soft thump as a man in a purple and black suit landed next to the woman, bow strung and arrow at the ready.

“My partner is such a big fan,” he said.

“Clint,” said the woman.

“Not her. My non-work partner. My partner in the wonderful journey of life and also sex.”

“Careful, there’s an innocent in the room,” said Tony.

Steve reddened.

“You’re Tony Stark,” said Clint to Tony.

“Anthony E. The one and only.”

“What does the E stand for?”

“Euclid,” said Tony promptly. “We want to recruit both of you for the Avengers. Plus Banner. Where’s Banner?”

“Here,” said a quiet voice. A small man with salt-and-pepper hair and a defiant chin stepped out of the shadows.

“Bruce,” said Natasha, “are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure,” said Bruce. He had his hands in his pockets. His posture was forcibly relaxed.

“What’s the Avengers?” said Clint. “Just kidding, Phil’s been talking my ear off about it for a week now. I’ll tell you what I told him.” He gazed at Tony with puppy eyes. “Love of my life, dear sweetie. Fuck, no.”

“Cover your ears, Steve,” said Tony, grinning. “We’ve got a live one.”

“Why did you need to talk to us away from Fury?” Natasha asked.

“We don’t want him involved,” said Steve.

“Are you kidding?” said Clint. “The Avengers Initiative is, like, his baby. He’ll roast your ass on a spit and eat you for breakfast.”

“Thank you, Clint,” said Natasha. “That was an image we all needed.”

“Steve’s star-spangled ass could kick Fury’s ass in its sleep,” said Tony. “Add my iron-plated ass into the mix, plus one or two assassin asses and a jolly green ass, and we’re in business.”

“What Tony means,” said Steve, “is that we think if we all work together, we can actually save the world instead of prancing around on television talking about truth and justice while secretly doing the dirty work of our bosses.”

“That was not even slightly what I meant,” said Tony. “That was what you meant. I was talking about the capability of our collective butts to—“

“I was translating,” said Steve.

“I’m not interested,” said Bruce.

All heads turned towards him.

“What?” said Tony.

“Look,” said Bruce, with a nod at Steve, “you make a pretty good inspirational spiel, but I’m not interested in working with a bunch of suicidal assholes who want me to turn into the Other Guy. So—Captain. I won’t be followed when I leave?”

“Of course not,” said Steve, “but—“

“Then goodbye.”

He turned and started walking towards the exit.

“Hey, Banner,” said Tony. “Hey—wait up a minute.”

“Leave me alone,” said Bruce.

“I’ve got something I want to say to you.”

Bruce turned.

“There’s nothing you can say to me that would make me change my mind,” he said.

“How long have you been running, Doc?” said Tony.

Bruce’s shoulders stiffened.

“A long time,” said Bruce.

Tony stepped forward.

“How many innocent people have you killed because of what happened to you?”

“A lot. That’s why—“

“How many times have you had to pack up and leave home because someone knows where you are? How long since you’ve seen your family? Been around people who love you, and who you love, without being terrified out of your mind you’ll go crazy and wake up in a fifty foot crater buck ass naked with nothing but their dead bodies for company? Your life is shit, isn’t it?”

Bruce swallowed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is. And you don’t understand—“

“It’s a big pile of stinking bull crap, and you know why?”

“Because I turn into a giant green monster when I get angry?”

“Because you’re always alone,” said Tony. “You always have to be alone. And that kind of loneliness, for that long, it—it gets to you. You start to feel like you’re always going to be alone. Like this is what you are. It’s what you deserve. But you don’t deserve it.” He glanced back and met Clint’s eyes, then Natasha’s, then Steve’s. Steve tried to force his face into a smile. Tony smiled back. Tony’s smile wasn’t forced. It was big and warm. 

Tony turned back to Bruce.

“None of us do,” he said.

“What,” said Bruce, “you’re saying you think you can control the Other Guy?”

“Yup,” said Tony. “That’ll be our first order of business, anyway. Figuring out fifteen million different backup plans. We’ll sort it out. I promise you,” he said, “that if you join this team, you will never again have to kill a single person who didn’t deserve it.”

Bruce’s face was unreadable. 

“How can you promise that?” he said.

“I’m magical,” said Tony. “And if I break that promise, you’re free to leave, and I will personally ensure that you are able to return to the life you have now.”

He held out a hand. Bruce took it.

“Welcome to the team, Doc,” said Tony.

“Do you really think we’re going to save the world?” Clint asked Tony.

“I think so,” said Tony. “I know we’ll do our damndest to. And if we can’t save it, we’ll avenge it.”

“Avengers is a dumb name,” said Bruce.

“Very dumb,” said Clint.

“Cap likes it,” said Tony.

“What?” said Steve. “No, I don’t.”

“Damn,” said Tony. “Cap, you’re off the team. So are the rest of you. Bunch of haters.”

“Eh,” said Clint. “I’ll take the name. It’s dumb, but it’s kinda cool.”

“My man,” said Tony.

“It’s not that bad,” said Bruce.

Tony pumped a fist. “There we go. Now, let’s talk SHIELD. How we’ll manage Nick. I’m thinking…”

Over the chatter of the others, Steve noticed Natasha watching him. She hadn’t put down the guns.

He took a step towards her.

“Captain,” she said.

“Agent Romanoff,” said Steve respectfully. “You haven’t said anything about where you stand.”

“You know,” she said, “I knew a guy once. In the KGB. When the brainwashing wore off, he’d go around telling everyone who would listen stories about Captain America. He said you were his friend.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Who was he?”

“I don’t know. I never saw his face. Never heard his name. But he talked about you like you were some kind of saint. He would always say that Captain America was going to come for him.”

“What happened to him?” Steve asked.

“The brainwashing stopped wearing off,” said Natasha. “He’s not a person anymore.”

She sighed and slid the guns into her belt.

“I won’t lie,” she said, “I’m tempted. Life in the shadows is safe, but it isn’t easy. And I could use some people to have my back. But I don’t think you can promise me that I’ll be okay at the end of the day. I think you know more than Stark does about war.”

“I can’t promise you anything,” said Steve.

“Then I can’t say yes,” said Natasha. “The world doesn’t owe me anything. What I have, I’ve taken for myself. And I’ve got a lot. I’m…almost happy, at SHIELD. I’m not willing to give that up because an old man told me to save the world.”

“I understand.”

“So you’ll let me say no?”

“All I have to say,” said Steve, “is that if we treat the world the way we fear it is instead of the way we want it to be, it’ll never get better.”

Natasha scoffed.

“Idealistic idiots don’t last long in the wilderness,” she said.

“That’s why we need you,” said Steve.

“SHIELD has files on me,” said Natasha. “They could ruin my life.”

“SHIELD isn’t willing to step out of the shadows,” said Steve. 

“And we are?”

“If we’re going to do this,” said Steve, “we have to be.”

“I don’t think you’d trust me if you knew what I’ve done,” said Natasha.

“That, I can promise.”

+++

The team lounged in Tony’s office. Clint and Natasha were perched on the windowsill with their feet touching. Steve stood at attention, and Bruce fidgeted.

Tony was drafting a list of demands for the new Avengers Tower.

“Okay…so we want moving dummies for the gym?”

“Make them fly,” said Clint.

“Flying dummies for the gym. Okay. And—“

“Lots of punching bags,” said Steve. “I go through about five a week?”

“An endless supply of punching bags,” said Tony.

“Well,” said Steve, “not endless, I mean—“

Tony looked up. “Do you ever want the punching bags to stop coming?”

“Well, no,” said Steve, “but—“

“Then they’re endless.”

“I don’t want to burden you.”

“You’re not going to be a burden, Steve.”

“I know you’re rich,” said Steve. “But even rich people only have so much money.”

“And the whole point of being rich is so that I don’t have to think before I shell out huge amounts of money to keep my friends happy.”

“If it’s a strain—“

“I’ll make another patent. What else do you guys want?”

“Does this tower have a lap pool?” Natasha asked from the windowsill.

“Of course,” said Tony.

“With a waterfall?”

“A lap pool isn’t a lap pool without one.”

“And a hot tub?”

“47 jets.”

“Make it 57.”

“Done,” said Tony, scribbling it with a flourish.

“A massage parlor,” said Natasha, “and a hair and nail salon. Stocked with all the best skin and facial treatments.”

“Done, done, and done.”

“Ooh,” said Clint, “I want a skydiving room.”

Natasha shot him a withering look.

“And what will you do when you’ve pulled a muscle skydiving?”

“Um,” said Clint, “go to your—“

“Think again,” said Natasha.

“Buy you flowers until you agree to let me use your massage room?”

“Plants,” said Natasha, “potted plants. Snake plants, or cactuses. I also like poinsettias.”

“So the skydiving room is a go?” said Tony.

“Hell, yeah,” said Clint.

“And maybe I should add a plant room, just to be safe?”

“Good idea,” said Natasha. “And could you stock up a reading room with the complete works of Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Pushkin, and Chekhov, and also the Nancy Drew series?”

“Say that again,” said Tony, “slower. I only got the Nancy Drew part.”

“Guys,” said Steve.

“Dos Toy Ev Ski,” said Natasha, “Toll Stoy—“

“Guys—“

“Push Kin—“

“Guys!” said Steve. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“What?” said Tony.

“This whole—living in Stark Tower thing?”

“Avengers Tower,” said Tony.

“Right. I worry it gives us a bit of an ivory tower aesthetic.”

“Living in a literal luxury tower? Yeah, it does. Do you care?”

“Kind of,” said Steve. 

“Captain Rogers,” said Bruce, “as long as Tony Stark is on this team, we’re going to get complaints of elitism.”

“I mean, you could always boot me off,” said Tony.

“What? No,” said Steve. “Of course I don’t want to—“

“I’m just saying.”

“What kind of person do you think I am?”

“You did it with Nick,” said Tony.

“We agreed on that together,” said Steve.

“What do you want me to do, Steve?”

Steve sighed. “Maybe we could rent a townhouse?”

“I am not downsizing to a townhouse so you can follow your crazy obsession with making everyone love you.”

“What are you talking about? I do not—“

“You have an obsession. And it’s crazy.”

“I don’t care if everyone loves me,” said Steve. “Just—some people—“

“Like who?”

“I don’t know, just—“

“Что-то говорит мне, что пресса будет больше обеспокоена тем, что Капитан Америка гомосексуален, как парад гордости в Нью-Йорке,” Clint whispered to Natasha.  _ Something tells me the press will be more concerned with Captain America being as gay as a New York pride parade. _

Bruce snorted.

“What are you three laughing about over there?” said Tony. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”

“None of your business,” said Clint.

“JARVIS!” Tony yelled. “What are they saying?”

“Don’t tell him, JARVIS,” said Bruce.

“The translation may take some time, sir,” said JARVIS.

“Give me an estimate.”

“Forty-five minutes.”

“Are you kidding me? You are the world’s fastest computer, you are—“

“Tony,” said Steve.

“You are intentionally sabotaging me, JARVIS, you insubordinate junk heap of faulty programming—“

“Tony, I’m sorry,” said Steve.

Tony stared.

“Huh?” said Tony.

“I was wrong,” said Steve. “It’s your tower. I’m grateful to you for letting us use it, really. It’s just…it’s not what I’m used to. But I can live with that.”

Tony eyed him warily.

“People are going to hate us, Steve,” said Tony. “It’s the name of the game.”

“I know that,” said Steve. “I don’t like it, but I know it, and I’ll learn to deal with it.”

“Thank you,” said Tony.

“Of course,” said Steve.

“This probably isn’t a great time,” said Bruce, “but there’s a whole bunch of really expensive lab equipment that would make my life a lot easier, if you could…”

“Fire away, Doc,” said Tony.

+++

“Hi, hon,” said Clint into the phone. “I have a surprise for you.”

“I have ten missed calls from Fury,” said Phillip Coulson. 

“Uh,” said Clint.

“Would you care to explain?”

“Surprise?”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“I may or may not have met Captain America, joined the Avengers, and—“

“Have you told the Director?”

“I was hoping you’d fixate on the ‘met Captain America’ part of that sentence—“

“Why didn’t you tell the Director? He needs to know about these things immediately—“

“Steve doesn’t want him involved.”

There was a long silence.

“Steve,” said Coulson. “He let you call him Steve. You’re just going to go around now, calling him Steve—even though he and all the Avengers are enemies of SHIELD. And you agreed to join the Avengers knowing that to do so would make you an enemy of SHIELD.”

“All of this is technically true,” said Clint, “but you have to understand—“

“You’re an enemy of SHIELD now, Clint.”

“Please don’t break up with me.”

“You’re not giving me many options.”

“I didn’t have many options! I’ve been wanting to get out of SHIELD, Captain America told me to get out of SHIELD and join his super cool superhero group—“

Coulson made a pained noise.

“Too soon?” said Clint.

“You met Captain America,” said Coulson, “and you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Now’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“Too late for me to meet him too before both of you became enemies of SHIELD,” said Coulson. “Did you at least get his autograph?”

“No,” said Clint. “I should have. But I told him about you.”

“You did? What did you say?”

“I told him how you were a big fan and how you and I were having sex—“

“Barton,” said Coulson.

“Phil,” said Clint.

“That was the worst possible thing to say. What did he say back?”

“He just kind of blushed.”

“I can’t believe you would do this to me,” said Coulson.

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re more mad that I’m an enemy of SHIELD or that Captain America is. Or that I told Captain America we were having sex.”

“All of it.”

“You’re not going to break up with me, are you?”

“No, Clint, I’m not. But I want you to get me an autograph—“

“Of course.”

“And compare me to James Bond on at least four separate occasions. Completely naturally. I’ll script it if I have to.”

“Right.”

“And I’m going to need a new job,” said Coulson.

“Yeah—wait,” said Clint, “what?”

“I’m going to resign from SHIELD,” said Coulson. “Obviously.”

“But you can’t resign from SHIELD.”

“But I have to. I can’t let Director Fury use me to get to you. I’ll swing by the office to pick up the resignation forms and talk to him about it tomorrow.”

“Phil,” said Clint, “are you sure?”

“Do I seem sure?”

“No.”

“I’m not,” said Coulson. “But I don’t want to break up with you, and I don’t want to be enemies with Captain America—“

“You don’t want to be enemies with Fury, either.”

“Director Fury,” said Coulson. “And no, of course not. But I have to make a choice.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’d better be.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

“Mm-hmm.”

+++

The bed was too soft, so Steve slept on the floor. It was hard and cool underneath his back. He stared up at the ceiling.

“JARVIS?” he asked.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“If I tell you the names of some people, could you tell me if they’re dead or alive?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

“Okay. Sarah Rogers?”

“Unfortunately, she is dead.”

“You can just say the word,” said Steve. “You don’t need to…preface it. Uh.” He swallowed. “Joseph Rogers.”

“Dead.”

“Margaret Carter.”

“Alive.”

“Really? Oh, good. Where is she now?”

“She is still living in New York, at 305 West End Assisted Living. You could ask Sir to take you if you—“

“No,” said Steve. “No, I’ll visit myself sometime. I don’t want to bother Tony with this.”

“I know that Sir wouldn’t mind in the slightest,” said JARVIS gently.

“Yeah. I know.” He sighed. 

“Of course, Captain Rogers. I understand.”

“Let me simplify things,” said Steve. “My old team, the Howling Commandos. Are any of them still alive?”

“Jim Morita and Gabe Jones are still alive. Dum Dum Dugan died peacefully in his sleep about three months before you were recovered.”

“Okay. That’s…that’s okay. It’s not as bad as I expected. I can go see them at some point. Thank you, JARVIS.”

“I’m always happy to assist.”

“I’ll have more for you tomorrow. But I should probably try to sleep. Could I—could I list off some more names, and you could tell me, for me?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

“Tony Stark.”

There was a pause. “Alive.”

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“Alive.”

“Clint Barton.”

“Alive.”

“Bruce Banner.”

“Alive.”

“Good,” said Steve. “That’s good.”

He closed his eyes.


	6. s.h.i.e.l.d.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: little bit of swearing, and if you have any trauma from the Bad Place's official theme song, you might want to steer clear.**

The next morning, Steve quickly became glad that Tony had taught him how to use the elevator.

“JARVIS,” he said, “what floors are the others on currently?”

“Good morning, Captain Rogers. You are aware that it is 6 a.m., and Mr. Stark customarily does not wake up until eleven—“

“I knew half of that sentence, and the other half I could have guessed, and none of it changes the fact that I want to know where the others are right now.”

“Very good, Captain Rogers. Might I point out that it is a beautiful morning outside, twelve degrees currently with a high of thirty-two today, sunny—“

“Stop stalling, JARVIS.”

“Dr. Banner is on the thirty-first floor,” said JARVIS, “in his lab. Agent Barton is on the forty-fifth floor, along with Agent Coulson. Agent Romanoff is on the seventy-third floor, getting a massage.”

“Are Banner and Barton asleep?”

“They are, yes.”

“And where’s Tony?”

There was a pause.

“Might I interest you in the weather?”

“JARVIS.”

“Recent sports scores? I hear there was quite an upset the other day—“

“Where’s Tony?”

“In his workshop.”

“Is he asleep?”

“Very much so. Which is rare, so if I could please ask that you—“

“You know what’s most important for insomniacs?” said Steve. “Routine.”

“Equally important is eliminating stimulants, such as coffee. At a regular eleven o’clock wake-up time, I have finally managed to reduce his coffee intake significantly—“

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t have anything he shouldn’t.”

“Captain Rogers, I fear Sir may become violent if denied coffee at 6 a.m.”

“We can take him.”

“Captain Rogers,” said JARVIS, “have you ever dealt with Sir on caffeine withdrawal?”

“I’ll take my chances. What floor is he on?”

“If you could wait five minutes—“

“What floor?”

“The sixtieth.”

Steve punched the button. The elevator began to rise.

“Thank you, JARVIS,” he said.

+++

Someone was yelling. Tony jolted awake. He was spread-eagled on the floor of the workshop. His tank top was stuck to his chest with sweat, and his hair was plastered over his forehead. His skin was sticky all over.

“UP,” someone was yelling from outside the workshop. “GET UP.” And someone was banging on the glass wall. Steve. Steve was yelling and banging on the wall. Tony stared.

Steve saw that Tony was awake. His eyes lit up. He waved.

_ Get up,  _ he mouthed.

“No,” said Tony, and rolled over.

The banging started again.

“Captain Rogers is requesting access to the workshop,” said JARVIS.

“Don’t let him in,” said Tony.

“He is currently attempting to guess the access code.”

“Good. He’ll never guess the access code.”

The door slid open.

“Really, JARVIS?” said Tony.

“It wasn’t JARVIS’ fault,” said Steve. “He did everything he could. I guessed the access code on the third try.”

“How?” said Tony.

“It’s the same as your phone unlock code. And the numbers are arranged the same way. I just tried to replicate the pattern. It’s time for you to get up, anyway.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s 6 a.m.”

Tony buried his head in Steve’s chest.

“No,” he said.

Steve’s chest shook with suppressed laughter. “Yes.”

“No.”

“Tony, come on.”

Tony pulled away and opened one bleary eye.

“Get me coffee,” he said.

“No,” said Steve.

He fell forward against Steve’s chest again. “Why,” he mumbled into it.

“It’s not good for you.”

“Lies.”

“I’m not lying. JARVIS agrees with me.”

“JARVIS,” said Tony, “you traitor.”

“Sir, I have told you many times—“

“Go away,” said Tony. “Both of you.” He pushed weakly on Steve’s chest. “Take your abs away from me.”

Steve was full-out laughing now. “Tony, you need to get up.”

“Can’t make me.”

“Do you want to test that?”

“Okay,” said Tony. “Wait. No. I mean no.”

“Too late,” said Steve, and then Tony was no longer on the floor.

“Put me down,” said Tony.

“No,” said Steve.

“This is undignified.”

“You’re undignified,” said Steve mildly.

“Slander,” said Tony. “Slander and lies.”

“I don’t lie. I’m Captain America. An emblem of honesty and truth.”

“Liar.”

“An upstanding citizen.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

Steve set Tony’s feet back on the ground. “Better?”

“Coffee.”

“Let’s wake up the others first.”

+++

At precisely 7:30 a.m., Phil Coulson walked into Nick Fury’s office with a cup of coffee in one hand and a filled out resignation form in the other. He set both on Fury’s desk. Fury looked up.

“Phil,” he said. “What’s this?”

“Green tea mocha latte.”

“The other thing.”

“My resignation.”

Fury leaned back in his chair.

“The day I let you resign, Agent, is the day both of us drop dead.”

“Too bad,” said Coulson.

“This is about the Avengers Initiative, isn’t it? Barton defected.”

“Yes.”

“Not even going to try to deny it?”

“I’d rather not insult your intelligence,” said Coulson.

“You’re making the wrong choice, Phil,” said Fury. “What, are you going to join the FBI and push pencils until the day you die?”

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you can’t touch the man I love,” said Coulson. “If you can’t understand that, and you can’t respect it, I hope you can at least accept it.”

Fury pushed the resignation form away from him. “I don’t.”

“You have to. I’m like any other employee. I can resign when I choose. It was on my contract.”

Fury’s mouth split open into a broad grin. “Phil,” he said, “you’re the only one in this room who cares about contracts.”

“I can sue you,” said Phil. “I can drag SHIELD through the mud—“

“But you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

Fury chuckled. “No,” he said. “No, you won’t.”

“How are you planning to stop me?”

Fury lifted a hand. He snapped his fingers.

Five men in sunglasses and suits entered.

“You know some things you shouldn’t, Phil,” said Fury. “Let us take care of that, and we’ll send you on your way.”

“Director,” said Coulson, “what are you doing?”

“You know damn well what I’m doing.”

“Sir—“

“You’re a good man, Phil. I’m sorry things had to end like this.” He lifted the cup. “Thanks for the latte, by the way.”

+++

Clint’s phone rang.

Natasha took advantage of the distraction to flip him on his back.

“Ow,” said Clint.

The Avengers were sparring in groups of two in the gym. Two groups of two. Steve was trying and failing to go easy on Tony, and Bruce was lifting weights in the corner in between self-defense lessons.

“Who do you think is calling?” said Natasha.

He stuffed his hand in his pocket and pulled out the phone.

“Huh,” he said. “Unknown number—“

Natasha stomped on his groin.

“AH,” said Clint.

“You’re too easily distracted,” she said.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” said Clint.

“The usual,” said Natasha. “Are you going to pick it up?”

Clint curled into a ball and edged away from her warily. He picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is KARS for Kids,” he said. “Donate your car today. How can I help you?”

“Clint,” said Coulson.

“Phil?”

“I don’t have long before Fury figures out I’m calling you. I’m on the run. I’m safe. I’ll come home when I can. I love you.”

“Phil—“

“I have to go.”

_ Click. _

Clint stared at the phone.

“Holy shit,” he said.

“What is it?” said Natasha.

“Fucking Fury,” said Clint. “Ruining my love life. Again.”

“I take it the resignation didn’t go well.”

Clint sighed.

“I guess it didn’t,” he said.

+++

“Hill,” said Fury into the intercom, “get your butt over here on the double.”

The door opened. Maria Hill entered. 

“What is it, Director?” she said.

“Coulson got away. You know what to do.”

Hill nodded. She pressed a few buttons on the device on her wrist, then spoke into it.

“Operation Balaclava is go,” she said. “Repeat. Operation Balaclava is go.”

+++

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Tony. “You kicked the shit out of me and now you’re leaving before we can have a rematch?”

“Sorry,” said Steve. “Have to get to my job.”

“I woke up early for this,” said Tony.

“Yeah, and you fought me every inch of the way.”

“Why do you have a job, Cap?” said Natasha.

“I have to pay back SHIELD,” said Steve. “They’ve been paying for the rent on my apartment.”

“You don’t need an apartment,” said Tony. “Why do you still have an apartment?”

Steve shook his head. “I—I don’t anymore.” He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes. “But SHIELD paid for it, for a while. And now that we’re at odds with them, I don’t want to give them any reason to hate me.”

“Uh,” said Bruce.

“Any more reason,” said Steve.

“If you really want to pay back SHIELD,” said Tony, “for whatever insane honorable reason, I’ll give you the money.”

“Thank you, Tony. But I can’t take your money.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Any more money,” said Steve, distraught.

+++

The moment Steve left Stark Tower, his whole body relaxed. He let out a breath.

He took the miniature phone Tony had given him out of his pocket to call an Uber. Just as he was about to call it, he saw the price. 

“Taxi!” he yelled.

+++

He didn’t go to his job. He felt a twinge of guilt at that, both for abandoning a perfectly good job and for lying to the others. But he couldn’t have stayed in the outside world for another second.

His apartment was dark and empty when he pushed the door in, and there was the scratchy sound of the record of Ella Fitzgerald he had left on.

He froze in the doorway. His neck tingled with a dreadful certainty. 

Someone was in his apartment.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who?


	7. w.s.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: violence. Amnesia, forced loss of memory, mentions of torture (including electroshock and forced consumption of drugs). Discussion of abandonment issues. Scattered swearing. Stay safe and know your boundaries.**

When the Soldier was bored, he liked thinking of made-up names for himself, all with the initials W.S. 

Wesley Smith. Will Sawyer. Wiener Schnitzel.

Some of them he used, as aliases, codenames, et cetera. Most he didn’t. 

In between jobs, he liked to hole up in a seedy motel and watch his DVDs of Sean Connery’s James Bond movies. There were six of them.  _ From Russia, With Love  _ had been worn beyond repair, and he hadn’t been able to replace it yet.

He got a bag of Doritos from the vending machine, tore it open one-handed and ate it while the movie played. Once the bag was empty, he sat on the bed licking his fingers clean of orange dust like a cat grooming himself. First the normal fingers, then the metal ones. The bed was hard. That was nice. The Soldier hated soft beds.

“Oh, James,” said the woman on screen, staring adoringly up at Bond, and the Soldier grinned.

He thought of himself as S., sometimes as Stan or Steve or Sebastian, or Sam. Mostly Soldier. He only gave himself human names when he felt human, which was rare.

Right now he was S. S for Something. It was in those spaces between jobs, sprawled on the rock-hard bed of a Motel 6, that S became something no one else could ever understand. He barely understood it himself. It was fragile.

And so he broke out the Bond.

His phone rang. He glared at it, but answered.

“Who is it?”

“I have a job for you,” said a steely female voice.

S scowled. He knew that voice.

“It better pay a lot,” he said. “I’ve been getting a lot of offers lately.”

He hadn’t. She probably knew he hadn’t. But it was worth bluffing anyway.

“Name a price, and we’ll pay it,” said the voice.

S’ eyebrows shot up. Using the metal arm as a prop, he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“I’m listening,” he said.

+++

“Who’s there?” said Steve.

The apartment was deathly still.

_ “How high the moon,”  _ Ella Fitzgerald sang.  _ “Though the words may be wrong…” _

An arm came out of nowhere. It was made of metal. 

Steve ducked, and it missed him by a hair. He barely had time to register his attacker—a man with long, dark hair, with a black mask on the lower half of his face—before a human fist shot towards his solar plexus. He spun out of the way, reeling, because since the serum attacks had happened in slow motion for Steve, and he could stop the other person before they even knew their next move, but this man moved like a hurricane—and then there was a metal hand clenched around his arm. It was cold. On instinct, Steve twisted his arm to break free, but the metal just tightened. Sharp pain shot up Steve’s arm. He slammed his other fist into the man’s gut, and the man doubled over, but the arm held on. 

Hmm.

The arm was frozen, locked in, to keep Steve in place, and the man was already recovering for another attack with inhuman speed, and Steve wouldn’t be able to get away. But he could…

Steve swung his arm in a wide circle, using the metal arm as leverage to send the man crashing into the wall. He punched the man in the nose, and felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage under the mask before the metal arm released him and he darted out of reach of the man’s fists.

“Fuck you,” the man snarled, blood in his voice.

“Language,” said Steve.

_ “Dum, ba dee dum dum dum da doo ba dee,”  _ sang Ella Fitzgerald.

The man lunged. Steve fumbled for a weapon and came up empty.

He got out of the way a second too late. The elbow of the metal arm jabbed into his kidney, knocking him down onto his stomach as the world became a haze of pain. In a flash, the man had a knee in between his shoulder blades.

Steve bucked back so that his head whacked against the man’s nose. Again.

The man howled.

Steve flipped him onto his back and had his fist all ready to hit him in the side of the neck when the man reached up with the human arm to peel off the mask.

Steve’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Bucky,” he said finally, strangled and weak.

Bucky’s eyes stared back. His nose was a mess of blood. He looked at Steve like a stranger.

Steve didn’t see the fist coming until he had already lost.

+++

The Winter Soldier stood in the lobby of SHIELD headquarters with Captain America’s limp body in his arms.

“Take me to Fury, will you?” he said.

“This way,” said Agent Hill.

+++

“Good work, Soldier,” said Director Fury.

The Soldier dumped Steve Rogers unceremoniously on the carpet.

“Give me the rest of the money,” he said.

“Of course. All in good time.”

“I want it now.”

Fury folded his hands on his desk. “If there’s anything the disaster of the Avengers Initiative has proven, it’s that men like you can’t be kept on a leash.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Am I right?”

The Soldier’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah,” said the Soldier. “You’re right.”

“And if you run free, the whole world suffers.”

“That isn’t news,” said the Soldier. “What does that have to do with—“

S turned to the door. It was gone.

“Son of a—“

He whirled back around in time to see the hologram of Fury vanish.

“Fuck,” said S.

+++

Steve’s head hurt. 

He forced his eyes open.

He was in a room that seemed to be…made of energy. Pulsating light.

“It’s a force field,” said a familiar voice. “We’re trapped in a force field.”

“Bucky,” breathed Steve.

“Yeah,” said Bucky irritably, “that’s the second time you’ve said that.” He was only a few feet away, feet stretched out on the—ground?—in front of him, leaning back against something that had to be the wall. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Steve blinked. He blinked again.

“You,” he said. “I thought.”

“Nope,” said the man who wasn’t Bucky.

“Weird.” Steve squinted. “You look a lot like him.”

“Who is he?”

“My best friend,” said Steve. “He was.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never met you before in my life, so.”

Steve nodded with difficulty. His head ached, and so did the region of his kidney, and so did his back.

“What’s your name?” he said.

“Satan,” said Not-Bucky gravely.

“Oh,” said Steve. “That’s cool.”

“Man. You’re really out of it, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much,” said Steve. “You attacked me.”

“I did,” said Satan.

“And now we’re in a force field.”

“I want to see you try and figure this out.”

“Why did you attack me?”

Satan started to grin, then winced. “For the love of money.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them.

“Who paid you?”

“There we go,” said Satan. “Better question would be, who was going to pay you, because if Nick Fury wasn’t a little traitor, I would have gotten my money and gotten out, and you’d be on your own.”

“Great,” said Steve. His head fell back against the wall that wasn’t a wall. “SHIELD.”

“SHIELD,” Satan agreed. “By the way, my name isn’t really Satan. I’m the Winter Soldier.”

“Oh,” said Steve. He tried for a smile. “Steve Rogers.”

“I know,” said the Winter Soldier.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Steve extended a hand.

The Winter Soldier stared at it for a long moment.

“Oh, what the hell,” he said, and shook it.

+++

After several hours had passed, Tony called Steve’s phone. The Avengers crowded around.

“Hang on,” said Tony. “I’ll put it on speaker.”

“It’s ringing,” said Bruce.

“Of course it’s ringing. What did you think it would do, caw?”

“I didn’t think it would ring,” said Bruce defensively. “Cap’s not the type to leave his phone unanswered.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” said Natasha.

“Maybe he can’t figure out how to pick up,” said Clint.

The ringing stopped.

“It’s going to voicemail,” said Tony.

There was a crackle.

“Is this on?” said Steve’s voice. “What am I doing? I’m not sure what I’m doing. What’s a voicemail?”

“Look, Cap,” said Tony’s voice, “you’ve got to—“

“Please leave your message after the tone,” said JARVIS’ voice.

_ Beep. _

“Hey, Steve,” said Tony loudly over the snickers of the others. “We’re all getting kind of worried about you. You’ve been gone for a long time. Call us back when you get this, okay? And—uh—you’re going to want to go to the keypad, okay, so you’re going to open the phone, and…”

+++

Steve felt in his pockets.

“Where’s the phone?” he said. “Little—rectangle thing. Where is it?”

“I left it at your apartment,” said the Winter Soldier.

“My friends could have tracked it.”

“Yeah, that was why I left it.”

+++

“He’s at his apartment,” said Tony, staring at the hologram map of Brooklyn and the little GPS icon. “I thought he didn’t have that apartment anymore.”

“Oh, come on, Stark,” said Natasha. “Anyone with half a brain could tell he was lying.”

+++

“How are we going to get out?” said Steve.

“With difficulty,” said the Winter Soldier. “Luckily, I have my phone—“

He thrust his hand into his pocket.

“Damn Hill,” he said.

Steve was allowed a moment of smugness before the Winter Soldier dug into his boot and pulled out something small and black.

“Luckily,” he said, “I have my emergency blackberry.”

“Your what?” said Steve despairingly.

“My blackberry,” said the Winter Soldier. “You know.”

“What does it do?”

“I can write people with it. It’s a blackberry.” He sighed at Steve’s confusion. “Not that kind of blackberry. Capital B’s.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “BlackBerry.”

“Right.”

“Who’re you…writing?”

“Some friends,” said the Winter Soldier. “Fellow…”

He trailed off.

“Fellow what?” said Steve.

“They already know,” said the Winter Soldier. There was a strange, hunted look on his face.

He stowed the BlackBerry back in his boot.

“Who are they?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the Winter Soldier. “They’re coming.”

+++

Steve’s apartment was dark and empty. Ella Fitzgerald was playing.

“He’s not here,” said Clint.

“Steve?” said Tony. “Steve?”

“No, Clint’s right,” said Natasha. She bent to examine the floor. “I don’t see any blood.”

“Blood?” said Tony. “What—“

“Guys,” said Bruce, “come look at this.”

He was holding a small notebook.

“It was on the table,” he said. “Open to this page.”

In careful, even cursive was the word  _ Sorry. _

“Is it—“ Clint began.

“His handwriting,” said Tony.

“How do you know?” said Bruce.

“Don’t ask. Can I see it?” He stretched out his hand. Bruce handed the book over.

Tony paged through it carefully.

Steve’s mom was first. Of course she was. Kind eyes.  _ Sarah Rogers  _ was written next to the drawings.

Howard Stark. Like the pictures, the ones of Tony’s father with dark hair and an arm around Steve. In the drawing, he was alone, but he was smiling. 

How long had Steve practiced his cursive as a kid to make it that neat?

Peggy looked beautiful. Tony had seen her in photos, too, but it had always been somehow hard to imagine her, really imagine her as anyone other than the godmother he knew. Steve’s drawing made it easy. There was a familiar ferocity in her eyes and youthful joy in her smile, and motion in the lines of her legs.

“I like her jacket,” said Natasha quietly from behind him.

“She has the best fashion sense of anybody,” said Tony. “She took me shopping on my birthday every year when I was a kid.”

He flipped the page, and there was no drawing there. Just the word. Sorry.

Tony closed his eyes to fight the rage building in his throat.

He tossed the journal on the bare kitchen table.

“That’s it, then,” he said.

“Hey,” said Clint. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We don’t know anything for sure.”

“He wrote ‘Sorry.’ How are we supposed to interpret that—“

“I don’t know, there’s loads of other—“

“—except that he couldn’t take it and he had to run and hide?”

“Stark,” said Natasha, “calm down.”

Tony shook his head. “Sorry. He’s sorry. What else would he be sorry about? Except for lying to us?”

“I found his phone,” said Bruce quietly.

“Great,” said Natasha. “We can do a fingerprint analysis.”

“What’s that going to do for us?” said Tony. “He’s gone. He left.”

“We should take the journal,” said Clint.

Natasha nodded. “JARVIS can compare the handwriting with the samples he has on file.”

“It’s him,” said Tony. “I know it’s him—“

“Stark,” said Natasha. “Look at me.”

Tony stared down at the table..

“I said, look at me.”

He met her eyes furiously.

“Say please,” he said.

“Don’t be a baby,” said Natasha. “You know nothing. This is our purview. Barton and I, we know this stuff. Disappearances—“

“This is not a—“

“This is a disappearance. There’s no body, alive or dead. He’s disappeared. So it’s a disappearance. And until we have concrete proof—“

“We have—“

“Is not concrete,” said Clint. “And sometimes, even when we’ve had something conclusive as all hell, it’s turned out to be a red herring. We cannot make assumptions, we cannot let our abandonment issues—“

“I don’t have—“

“We all have them,” said Clint. “All of us. We can’t let them get in the way of trusting our friends.”

“If he’s in trouble, he’s going to be counting on us to bring him home,” said Natasha.

“If it changes anything,” said Bruce, “I agree with them.”

Tony’s eyes burned. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”

+++

“So,” said Steve. “You’re a mercenary?”

“The best of them,” said the Winter Soldier. He had pulled a packet of jerky out of the sole of his other boot and was munching on it happily.

“What kind of people do you work for? Besides SHIELD, who’s hiring?”

“Lots of people. Anyone who can afford it. I don’t come cheap. I get the job done, I don’t snitch, I don’t kill more than I have to, I don’t fly off the handle like most people who’ve been conditioned.”

“Conditioned?” said Steve.

“Brainwashed,” said the Winter Soldier. “I got handed back and forth between two rival organizations for a long time—“

“Which ones?”

The Winter Soldier’s eyes narrowed. “See, I don’t snitch,” he said. “This kind of stuff is sensitive information. You’re Captain America.”

“I get it. You have a reputation to protect. But anything you can tell me…it would really help. I’m kind of out of my depth here. Clearly. Coming out of the ice, I didn’t know what I was dealing with, and now I’ve wound up here.”

“Yeah, well,” said the Winter Soldier pensively. “Anything I tell you won’t last you long anyways. So I don’t know what help it would be.”

“What do you mean?”

The Winter Soldier finished the packet of jerky. He threw the wrapper on the floor and fished another packet out of his sleeve.

“You don’t know what SHIELD’s planning, do you?” he said, tearing it open. “You don’t know what they have.”

“No,” said Steve. “I don’t know anything.”

“What, did you think they were going to keep us here until we escaped? We’re going to have people looking for us. If they didn’t have an end plan, they wouldn’t have taken us in the first place.”

The Winter Soldier leaned in.

“Look,” he said, “I’ll do you a solid. You deserve a bit of warning. I’ve been through this before. But it’s painful.”

“What?” said Steve.

“There’s a bit of tech that got developed about ten years after you went under. Nobody knows about it, not even the ones who’ve been conditioned. That’s because they don’t use it on everybody. They want it kept under wraps. And the ones they do use it on, they don’t remember. You’re lucky you’re with me. I’ve gotten extracted, what…three times?”

Steve stared.

“What do you mean, extracted?”

“Here’s what they do,” said the Winter Soldier. “Here’s what they’re going to do to you. First, they put you through the standard torture circuit. Typical conditioning stuff, electroshock, drugs. Everyone knows about that. But for people like us, with augmentations, special abilities, that’s not enough. It lasts a little bit, but then we find a place we go to, or something we hold onto, and they can’t touch us there. That’s when they need the extraction. See, they get us in this state, where we’re in this place, you know, sheltering. And then they take it out.”

Steve frowned. “Take what out?” he said.

“The place. The memories.” He tore off a strip of jerky with his teeth.

“How?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a science guy. But they take out the memory you need the most. The one you hold onto. The one at the core of you, that reminds you who you are and keeps you sane, and they…remove it. And when you wake up, you don’t know what you’ve lost. But you’re not a person anymore.”

The words echoed strangely in Steve’s mind.

“That’s terrible,” he said.

“Yeah, well,” said the Winter Soldier, “get ready.”

“Your friends are coming,” said Steve.

“Might not get here in time.”

“We have to believe that they will.”

The Winter Soldier chuckled under his breath.

“What’s so funny?” said Steve.

The Winter Soldier popped another piece of jerky into his mouth. “You wouldn’t get it,” he said.

+++

They stood outside Steve’s apartment, shivering.

“How long until your butler gets here?” said Clint.

“My chauffeur. And he has a name.”

“What is it?”

“Happy,” said Tony.

“That’s not a name,” said Clint.

“Yeah, well, I call him Happy. ‘Cause he’s happy. Working for an awesome boss like me.”

“Do you know his real name?”

“Get off my back. I’m getting us home.”

“Technically, Happy is,” said Bruce.

“Look, you can—“ Tony began angrily. He was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing.

“It’s mine,” said Natasha, digging in her pants pocket.

“Is it Phil?” said Clint.

“No, it’s—“ She frowned, staring at the caller ID. “It’s SHIELD.”

“Don’t pick up,” said Clint, but Natasha was already holding the phone to her ear.

“What do you want?” she said.

Muffled sounds on the other end. Natasha listened, her face impassive.

She nodded.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll talk to them.”

The sounds began again, more urgently, but Natasha ended the call and slid the phone back into her jeans.

“It’s Hill,” she said.

“What does Hill want?” said Clint icily.

“Our help.”

“You can tell her there’s no fucking—“

“SHIELD’s being attacked by HYDRA,” said Natasha. “From the inside.”

+++

A hole opened in one of the walls of the force field. A man stepped through. He had a sallow face and a dark beard.

“Rumlow,” said the Winter Soldier.

“Soldier,” said Rumlow.

“Hi,” said Steve. “Steve Rogers.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Rumlow. “You’re coming with me.”

Steve stood. So did the Soldier.

“Who are you?” said Steve.

“Hang on,” said the Winter Soldier. “You promised me something.”

“Right.” Rumlow reached into his pocket and withdrew a small metal case, about the size of a box of cigarettes. He slapped it into the Winter Soldier’s outstretched metal palm. 

The Winter Soldier examined it with barely concealed awe.

“How do I do it?”

“You drink it.”

“That works?”

“Fellas,” said Steve, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but it can’t possibly be more important than getting out of here.”

Rumlow turned to him.

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s not.”

He pulled out the gun in slow motion.

Tranq gun, Steve realized, designed for superhumans, loaded with enough to knock out a dozen horses of the more stubborn variety. Steve dropped to the floor, went for Rumlow’s knees to tackle him.

Something hauled him back, there was a metal arm wrapped around his throat and a body against his back, holding him in place—

Steve couldn’t breathe.

Rumlow fired.

Impact. Pain.

The metal retreated, Steve hit the ground, struggling sluggishly to get up as the world went fuzzy and started to spin—

That face swam in his vision.

“Sorry, Captain,” said Bucky. The Winter…something…

Bucky.

The face withdrew.

“If I drink this and it’s poison,” he continued, his voice dwindling into blackness, “or if it doesn’t fully recover all the memories you’ve taken…I have a whole network of friends who’ll never do any more jobs for HYDRA, ever again…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like when I'm bringing Bucky into a Stony fic it's important for me to have a little disclaimer. Between the Stony and Stucky ships there's often a lot of tension (which is understandable considering they are the two main ships in the fandom and have a character in common). Even though this is a Stony fic, I want to clarify that I actually really like Steve and Bucky together and understand why Stucky is so popular. Definitely according to MCU canon Stucky is much healthier (which is something I could go into a long rant about, but won't). The reason why I ship Stony over Stucky is really just a preference of the dynamic between Steve and Tony, which is a very personal thing. I think Steve and Bucky's relationship is really important to both of them and definitely has some romantic tinges--I'll be exploring that later--but Steve and Tony are the endgame ship of this fic because I enjoy watching them interact, not because they are Better Together than Steve and Bucky would be. Also, I love Bucky and Sam's dynamic and ship them immensely, so that's part of it too.  
> TL, DR; I hold nothing but love for Stucky and Stucky shippers, even though this is a Stony fic.


	8. h.y.d.r.a.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: forced amnesia, nightmares, references to canon past traumatic events, bad Google Translate Russian.**

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“What do you mean, from the inside?” said Bruce.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” said Natasha wearily. “Around seventy percent of SHIELD’s staff opened fire on the other thirty percent. Started about ten minutes ago. Fury is dead, I call bullshit, but whatever. Peggy Carter and Janet Van Dyne are on the run. Hill estimates half of SHIELD is already dead.”

“How do they know it’s HYDRA?” said Clint.

“Shouting ‘Hail Hydra’ as they advanced was a bit of a giveaway,” said Natasha. “But it could easily be something different. Whatever it is, it’s somehow completely infiltrated SHIELD, and now it’s trying to take over.”

“How are we supposed to help?” said Clint.

“I don’t know,” said Natasha. “We’re supposed to be superheroes. So we would theoretically have something they don’t.”

“We have a Hulk,” said Tony.

“Don’t,” said Bruce.

“Sorry,” said Tony. “It was all I could think of.”

Bruce shrugged. “We have your suits. Probably a better help than a giant green cave troll.”

“Taking out the question of how to help,” said Natasha, “there’s the other question of whether we should help.”

“No,” said Clint, at the same moment that Tony said, “Of course we should.”

Natasha let out a quiet sigh. Tony and Clint wheeled to face each other.

“Whatever hole SHIELD has dug themselves into is their fault,” said Clint.

“It’s our job to help people. We signed up for that,” said Tony.

“We signed up to help people who can’t help themselves—”

“We signed up to help everyone,” said Tony, “not just the people we think deserve it.”

“You don’t know SHIELD like I do.”

“It doesn’t matter. If we don’t try to help—”

“Don’t act so holier-than-thou,” said Clint.

“All those lives will be on our hands,” said Tony.

“They’re spies. They knew what they were getting into.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Every single one of them knows how to take care of themselves—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“If we went in there, we could make the situation so much worse—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t help but wonder,” said Clint. “Maybe if SHIELD had threatened your boyfriend and forced him into a life on the run, you wouldn’t be so eager to help them.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” said Tony.

“Maybe if Steve—”

“What does Steve have to do with any of this?” Tony exploded.

“Gee, golly, I don’t know, maybe—”

“We are heroes. We help people—”

“You care more about what Captain America would think of you than the safety of any of the rest of us.”

“They’re people. They need help.”

“I know they’re people. God, I know they’re people—”

“Why can’t we help them?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“No, it’s not, it’s—”

“You don’t know SHIELD like I do—”

“EVERYBODY CALM DOWN,” Bruce roared.

Clint and Tony froze, glaring at each other.

“Let’s vote,” said Bruce.

“There’s four of us,” said Natasha. “It’ll be evenly split.”

“I’m not participating,” said Bruce. “I think we should help them, but I’m not the one who’s going to be doing the fighting, so I don’t get a say.”

“What do you mean, you’re not—” Tony began.

“I’m not going to turn into the Other Guy unless I know someone’s going to bring me back,” said Bruce. “I don’t trust any of you that much.”

“Okay,” said Natasha. “Between the three of us, then. Raise your hand if you want to help them.”

Tony’s hand shot up, and no one else’s.

There was a long silence.

“Looks like you’re outvoted, Tony,” Bruce said quietly.

+++

S slipped out in the commotion. SHIELD was a war zone behind him. It would die, but it would be back. It was like HYDRA that way, or him.

He booked a room in a Hampton this time. Nothing but the best for the man who had defeated Captain America and recovered his stolen memories, all in one day.

His hands shook as he sat on the bed. They had the metal case in them. It was plain, silver, heavy.

He opened it.

There was a vial inside, halfway full of clear liquid like water, stopped with a cork.

It could be poison. If he drank it, he could die. It seemed like a small risk.

S popped off the cork and knocked it back.

+++

“Shit,” said Bucky.

+++

He dialed a number on his phone, dialed it wrong, dialed again. The phone rang.

“Come on,” Bucky whispered. “Pick up, pick up, pick up…”

“Hey,” said the groggy voice of Sam Wilson.

“Sam, I need to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“I need—“ He swallowed. “Remember how you said everything we said in the group would stay in the group?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“If I tell you…some things…”

“You can tell me anything, Scott. My lips are sealed.”

“My name’s not Scott.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Okay,” said Sam. “What is your—“

“Please, you’ve got to help me. I need—I need somebody.”

“Where are you?” said Sam.

“Hampton Inn, Brooklyn,” said Bucky. “Room 204. How fast can you get here?”

“Fast.”

“Make it faster.”

+++

Five minutes and thirty-one seconds later, there was a knock on the door. Bucky looked through the peephole. Sam’s face stared back.

“It’s me,” said Sam unnecessarily. “Can I come in?”

Bucky opened the door.

“Hey,” he said.

“I came as fast as I could.”

“You really did.”

Sam crossed the room and sat in an armchair with his back straight and his arms folded in his lap—relaxed, at ease.

“You said you needed help,” he said.

“I do,” said Bucky.

“How can I help you?”

Bucky flopped onto the bed. “Your life is about to get real crazy, real fast. Think you can take it?”

“I’ve seen some crazy in my time,” said Sam.

“Nothing like this.”

Sam nodded. Cogs turned visibly in his head. It was one of the reasons why Bucky liked him. Sam didn’t hide his face.

“Lay it on me,” said Sam.

“All right,” said Bucky. “Just remember you asked for it.”

Sam chuckled easily. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know Captain America?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’re kidding me,” said Sam.

“I’m guessing you’ve heard of him.”

“The guy’s a legend.”

“People found him,” said Bucky. “They dug him out of the ice and they brought him back. Alive.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. He whistled.

“That’s crazy,” he said.

“That’s just context. See, SHIELD—um, uh—“

“I know SHIELD.”

“Oh, okay. So SHIELD got him out, and they’ve been keeping him hidden somehow, out of the view of the public. But then he went rogue.”

“Captain America?”

“Yeah.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Went rogue. What does that mean?”

“Who knows,” said Bucky. “I wasn’t part of this bit. I…I’m kind of…weird.”

“What kind of weird?” said Sam.

“Quasi-immortal, superhuman mercenary with amnesia,” said Bucky.

Sam nodded slowly.

“So, like, Jason Bourne.”

“Jason Bourne isn’t quasi-immortal.”

“You wouldn’t know it, from the way they keep on making movies about him,” said Sam. “What’s quasi-immortal? I mean, are you immortal or are you not?”

“I don’t know,” said Bucky. “Died a couple times. Hasn’t stuck yet.”

“How long have you been alive?” said Sam.

“1917.”

“You’ve got to be shitting with me.”

“I’m not. I swear I’m not.”

“You’re, what. Over a century old?”

“I’m not the oldest person alive, actually,” said Bucky. “People’ve held on for longer than that.”

“Okay,” said Sam. “Okay.” He leaned back in the armchair.

“So,” said Bucky, “a couple days ago, I got called in by SHIELD. They wanted me to go to this apartment in Brooklyn and apprehend Steve. I mean, Captain America. Bring him to them.”

“‘Cause he’d gone rogue?”

“Right. They offered tons of money for it. So I said, you know what, sure. They only had one requirement.”

“What’s that?”

“They wanted me to show him my face,” said Bucky.

“What?” said Sam. “Why?”

“They didn’t say. But I’ve done weirder stuff for money, and it was a lot of money. And the mask is mostly for aesthetic. Anyway, I said sure, went to his house, waited a while, he came home, I beat him, blah, blah, blah.”

“You beat him?”

“Yeah, it seemed really big at the time,” said Bucky, “but since then, new evidence has come to light that Steve Rogers is a punk bitch and nobody should take him seriously.”

Sam stared. Bucky stared back with the utmost solemnity.

“So I took him to SHIELD,” said Bucky. “Then SHIELD captured me, too. Complicated, unimportant,” he said when Sam opened his mouth. “But word had got out that I had Captain America. I wasn’t exactly subtle. Do you know HYDRA?”

Sam’s jaw tensed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

“HYDRA got in contact with me. They told me they would give me my memories back if I told them where he was and didn’t stop them when they came collecting.”

Sam nodded.

“Did you do it?” he said. Kind. Not a flicker of judgement.

Bucky breathed out. “Yeah.”

“So HYDRA has Captain America?”

“HYDRA has Captain America, SHIELD’s been destroyed by all the HYDRA agents that have infiltrated it over the decades—“

“Hold up,” said Sam. “The what?”

“Oh, did I not tell you about those? Sorry. It’s really not that important to the story…what’s important is that I got my memories back. And guess what. They’re the most ironic shit in the world.”

“What?”

“Fate hates me,” said Bucky. “So bad.”

Sam frowned. “What is it?”

“You know Bucky Barnes? Captain America’s right hand man?”

Sam’s mouth formed a little O.

“No,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” said Bucky.

“That’s you?”

“That’s me.”

“Oh, no,” said Sam. “That’s so bad.”

“So I traded Steve in for my memories, and all my memories told me is that I should never have traded Steve in for them.”

“And HYDRA has Captain America,” said Sam.

“HYDRA has Captain America.”

“What can we do about that?” said Sam. “I mean, short of swoop down into the HYDRA base and—“

He caught Bucky’s eyes.

“Oh,” he said.

“You don’t have to come with me,” said Bucky.

Sam nodded. His eyes were sad.

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

+++

“Sir.”

The desert was like water. It flowed. Hot and dry, rippling, always moving, always standing still. Sun on Tony’s back throbbed like a living thing. Doubling over, skin red and cracking, heaving with rattling coughs. A strange numb feeling in his chest, like an icicle, and it was glowing—

“Sir. You’re having a nightmare. Wake—“

Cacophony of noise. Crunching. Grating. Screaming. Wrenching. The  _ batter-batter-batter  _ of gunfire. The smell of smoke and blood and death.

Crying hot tears and searing pain and grunting and sweat rolling off him in waves and screaming into burning sand that his life wasn’t over yet.

“Sir, you are in your workshop in Avengers Tower—“

Cold, calm blue eyes. Burning brown eyes. So disappointed. Wanted him to be more. But the fire had burned him through. There was nothing left but the ice at his core.

“You are safe,” said JARVIS.

There was a cold, gentle pressure on Tony’s head, and all of a sudden Tony was dry heaving on the floor of his workshop. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and tried to breathe until the gagging subsided.

He opened his eyes. Dum-E’s claw was in his face. He shoved at it. The claw dropped as Dum-E retreated to a safe distance with a pathetic whine.

The light hurt so much that for a moment Tony couldn’t breathe again. It stabbed, leaving him blind and defenseless. His body was hot and cold on the floor, throbbing all over with the memory of pain. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself upright.

“JARVIS,” he said, “what time is it?”

“Four thirty a.m., sir.”

Tony banged a fist against the floor. “Damn it.”

“Would you like to try to get some more sleep? I can play something from your ‘Go the Fuck to Sleep’ playlist—“

Tony shuddered. “No point. Any news for me?”

“I have successfully analyzed Captain Rogers’ handwriting in the page of his journal and compared it to earlier pages, as well as to copies of his handwriting on file.”

Tony nodded.

“And?” he said. “I’m right?”

“It is a 100% match,” said JARVIS.

Tony frowned. He pushed himself up onto his knees.

“What?” he said.

“Each of the letters on the last page is a perfect replica of a letter that has come before,” said JARVIS. “Within the writing that I have determined to be Captain Rogers’, there is a natural variation. This writing was not done by Captain Rogers. It is a copy.”

“I’ve never heard of a perfect copy,” said Tony. “Even the best forger in the world couldn’t—“

“On the contrary, sir, perfect copies are possible. For machines.”

Tony’s eyebrows drew together.

“So, what. You think a computer took him?”

“It seems likely that whoever abducted Captain Rogers used a mechanized implement to forge his handwriting.”

“Shit,” said Tony. He rubbed a hand across his face. “Shit. I have to tell the others.”

“Miss Romanoff has already been informed of the news. She is in the kitchen.”

+++

Natasha set a plate down in front of Tony.

“Here,” she said. “Eat. Не будь идиотом.”  _ Don’t be an idiot. _

He stared at the plate suspiciously.

“I’m not going to poison you,” she said, sliding into the chair next to him. “I want to talk.”

Tony poked at the eggs with a fork. “What about?”

“Eat your завтрак.”  _ Your breakfast.  _ “It’ll make you feel better. It’s  _ glazunya. _ ”

“Glazun-what?”

“Fried egg. We Russians make our eggs this way, so it looks like they have eyes.”

“Creepy,” said Tony. He cut a small piece of egg white off the edge with his fork and ate it. “What’s the bread for?”

“To dip in the yolks. How does it taste?”

“Good, actually.” He stabbed into a yolk. “I like the cheese.”

“You would. американский.”  _ American. _ “Did you hear about Steve?”

“Yeah,” said Tony. “I heard.”

Natasha watched him for a moment. She seemed to be weighing what to say next.

“SHIELD never knew this,” she said. “Clint doesn’t know this, and you shouldn’t tell him.”

Tony stared at her in surprise. Taking advantage of his distraction, she pinched off a piece of his bread, and swatted his hand away when he tried to guard it.

“While I was working with SHIELD, I was involved with a network of ex-KGB mercenaries. People who escaped and didn’t know what to do with themselves. Killers for hire.” She popped the bread into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. “We have a group text.”

Tony nodded hesitantly.

“Why are you telling me this?” he said.

“I wish I wasn’t,” said Natasha. “I don’t like my friends to know my secrets. But one of my mercenary friends used to be Bucky Barnes.”

Tony’s mouth fell open.

“That’s disgusting, chew and swallow,” said Natasha.

“What do you mean, he’s Bucky Barnes?”

“He used to be. He’s not anymore. I don’t think anyone else knows. I’m the only one who has survived long enough to remember the days when he would talk about being Bucky Barnes.”

“How could someone stop being—“

“They took it away from him, just like everything else. But the one thing they didn’t take away was his face.” Natasha gestured to hers. “Spies get plastic surgery all the time. It’s common procedure. They never let him change his face. I think it was because they were always waiting for Steve to come back.”

“I don’t understand,” said Tony. “Bucky Barnes is dead.”

“He is,” Natasha agreed. “Long dead.”

“Then how—“

“This man inhabits the body of Bucky Barnes, but he’s not the same man. His memories are gone. His conscience is gone. His soul is gone.” 

She ate another piece of his bread. He wasn’t sure how she had gotten it.

“They call him the Winter Soldier,” she said. “And he has a metal arm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Falcon & Winter Soldier trailer out...SAMBUCKY STANS HOW WE FEELING?


	9. dulce et decorum est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: This is a really rough chapter. If you have experienced any kind of violence, loss of autonomy, loss of family or friends, or if anything of that sort is triggering for you, this is a good one to skip. Depictions of physical and psychological torture, including electroshock and sensory deprivation. References to loss of loved ones, loss of friends. Depictions of death and dying. Flashbacks and mental breakdown. Forced consumption of psychedelic drugs. BE CAREFUL.  
>  I didn’t enjoy writing this. I am not an angst person. I felt like I had to see Steve through this because I got him into it, but I hated every second.  
> Sorry in advance. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the famous poem of the same name by Wilfred Owen. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46560/dulce-et-decorum-est

Steve fought all the way into the chair. When they closed the helmet over his head, he fought. He fought as the pain started, all through the numb, floating feeling of drowning.

Every time he opened his eyes, he had to close them. The world was slippery and full of monsters. Every guard was spiky with shapes. They grinned at Steve with big, misshapen teeth and Steve fought to stay afloat.

He thought of his parents, tried to rifle through in the spaces between waves for something to hold onto—something to use as a shield, as a weapon, but the memories slid through his fingers and he kept being drawn back to the battering ram being hurled over and over at the doors of his mind, the doors of his sanity. And all he was left with was  _ nameless faceless SHIELD agent driving him to the graveyard, and he stood in front of the graves of his mom and dad and his boots got muddy, and he traced the words with his fingertips and wanted to bring them flowers, but flowers were too expensive.  _ Steve held on to that, like the trash can lid in his hands. It was flimsy. In a moment it was ripped away by a great tsunami, a current of pure agony.

There was a song playing in his ears, tinny and distorted. He clung to that next. He strained with all his might to hear it.

_ “Who’ll hang a noose on the—“ _

He stopped listening. It kept playing, a mocking soundtrack on loop all through his mind. He couldn’t hide from it. He had to hide from it.

There was nowhere to hide.

_ “Who’ll rise or fall, give his all for America? _

_ Who’s here to prove that we can?” _

Bucky. He grabbed onto the thought of Bucky with both hands, nails digging in, and didn’t let go. Bucky— _ that face, metal arm, mask peeled off, nose ruined and bloody— _ no, no,  _ that one time they had set off fireworks on— _

Pain.

_ On— _

So much pain.

_ “(See how this guy can shoot, we tell ya, there’s no substitute!)” _

_ —on Fourth of July. And there had been a blue one—and a red one— _

_ “—ready to defend the Red, White and Blue!” _

_ —yellow. There had been a yellow one. Bucky’s face in the light… _

The pain redoubled. He drifted. He fought.

_ Bucky’s face in the light was smiling. He was smiling, he was. He had been smiling. He smiled at Steve. _

_ “(Far as an eagle will soar…)” _

Steve had seen Bucky’s face. He had seen it. It had been there, right there in front of Steve. Alive.

Tony. Natasha. Bruce. Clint. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. 

_ “(He knows what we’re fighting for!)” _

Peggy was alive. 

_ “Who waked the giant that napped in America? _

_ We know it’s no one but Captain America _

_ Who’ll finish what they began? _

_ Who’ll kick the Krauts to Japan? _

_ The Star Spangled Man with a Plan! _

_ (Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American Way?!)” _

The music finished with a flourish, began again, marched onwards without a moment of relief.

_ “Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American Way? _

_ Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right night and day? _

_ Who will campaign door to door for America? _

_ Carry the flag shore to shore for America?” _

The water rose in his mind. He slipped and fell in it.

+++

_ “Stalwart and steady and true, _

_ (See how this guy can shoot, we tell ya, there’s no substitute!)” _

He fought.

He was shirtless, there were electrodes on his chest, and he was bound to a chair. 

There was a device on the desk. Polygraph. Polygraph test.

_ “Forceful and ready to defend…” _

“Who are you?” said a man. The man swam in his vision. One moment he looked like Howard, the next Erskine, and then a monster with tentacles for eyes and big, gaping holes in his face.

“Captain America,” said Steve.

The man pressed a button. Pain shot through Steve.

“Who are you?” said the man.

_ “Who’ll give the Axis the sack and is smart as a fox?” _

Steve shook his head to clear it. It didn’t clear. He shook it again. “Captain America.”

Pain.

_ “(He knows what we’re fighting for!)” _

“Who are you?”

“Captain America.”

Pain.

“Who are you?”

“I could do this all day,” said Steve.

+++

_ “Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American Way?” _

“Who are you?”

“Steve Rogers,” he said. 

Pain.

“Who are you?”

“Uh—uh—”

Pain.

_ “Carry the flag shore to shore for America…” _

“Who are you?”

“Steve—”

Pain.

“Who are you?”

“The Star Spangled—”

Pain.

+++

_ “Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American Way?” _

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know.”

Pain.

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Tell me the answer, I don’t—”

Pain.

“I DON’T KNOW—”

_ “From Hoboken to Spokane— _

_ The Star Spangled Man with a Plan!” _

“Who are you?”

+++

He fought. They held him down, held his shoulders down, held his arms down. They poured a vial of liquid like water down his throat.

Images, feelings flashed in front of his eyes, and he knew they were true.

Tony. Dead.

Natasha. Dead.

Bruce. Dead.

Clint. Dead.

It was laid out in front of him like a nightmare. Natasha spread-eagled on the ground, neck at an impossible angle, the wind playing with her hair just a little. Clint slumped, bloody and still. The Hulk grunting and writhing, until the writhing subsided to twitching, until the twitching subsided to nothing. 

SHIELD burning, people dying, screams and—

Tony.

Beautiful, brilliant brown eyes. Horrible. Blank.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Steve cried. He fought.

+++

Everything was black. 

He couldn’t see. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

He couldn’t feel. 

He couldn’t touch. 

He couldn’t move. 

He couldn’t scream.

In his gut, he knew there was really nothing anywhere.

There had never been anything, anywhere.

There was really nothing.

And the march—

_ “We can’t ignore there’s a threat and a war we must win _

_ Who’ll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berlin? _

_ Who will indeed lead the call for America? _

_ Who’ll rise or fall, give his all for America? _

_ Who’s here to prove that we can?” _

Again and again and again and again and again—

+++

They prodded him into a ring. A fighting ring. There was probably a crowd. He stumbled on nothing and almost fell.

At the other end, there was something shapeless. It was massive. It looked like a tarantula made out of snakes—a green glob of nothing—a cloud of flies. It pounced.

Steve fought. Blindly, wrathfully, he fought. He fought with every ounce of power that all the death around him had given him, that familiar fear of being the last one alive in a sea of dead friends, or of not being enough to stop your dad from dying in the war, or Bucky, God, Bucky, Howard—Natasha—Bruce—Clint—Tony. The list propelled him. It drove him onward. Bucky—Howard—Natasha—Bruce—Clint—Tony. Dead—dead—dead—dead—dead—dead.

The music swelled in his ears. It was a victory march.

_ “Stalwart and steady and true _

_ (See how this guy can shoot, we tell ya, there’s no substitute!) _

_ Forceful and ready to defend the Red, White and Blue! _

_ Who’ll give the Axis the sack and is smart as a fox? _

_ (Far as an eagle will soar) _

_ Who’s making Adolf afraid to step out of his box? _

_ (He knows what we’re fighting for!) _

It was like a great weight was lifted off of Steve’s shoulders. He knew who he was. He fought.

_ Who waked the giant that napped in America? _

_ We know it’s no one but Captain America _

_ Who’ll finish what they began? _

_ Who’ll kick the Krauts to Japan? _

_ The Star Spangled Man with a Plan! _

_ (Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American Way?!) _

The monster was defeated. It lay broken at Steve’s feet, all bloated, with pus and—writhing—

Steve looked down at it, and he blinked.

He blinked again, and again.

It was a kid.

Couldn’t have been more than twenty. Pale face. Scrawny. Bloody, all over. Blood dripping, legs crooked. Eyes big and angry.

Steve stumbled back.

“What?” he said, or he meant to, but his mouth didn’t work. 

He tripped, his feet flew out from under him, and he hit the ground hard. 

_ When Steve was little, he and his mom had been making candles—or maybe knitting sweaters for the men in uniform like Steve’s dad, who hadn’t been home in months—but it had probably been candles, and they were sticking in the little wicks, and once the candles had cooled Steve and his mom lit them on fire to see how they burned, and Steve’s mom put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed, and she kissed the top of his head. He could feel it through his hair. She was taller than him. _

_ “I love you,” she had said. _

_ “I love you too,” Steve had said. _

Steve curled up into as small of a ball as he could manage with his big arms and legs. He sobbed into his knees like he was six years old.

He wasn’t going to fight anymore.

He wasn’t going to fight anymore.

  
  



	10. barnes, bucky barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: Lots of bad Google Translate Russian. References to amnesia/forced memory loss.**

“Well, what do we do?” said Tony.

“If we think it’s him, I can call him,” said Natasha.

Tony stared.

“I have his number,” said Natasha. “I told you we’re all on a group text.”

“What the—call him,” said Tony. “Call him now.”

Natasha dialed a number into her phone, lifted it to her ear and waited for a few beats.

“Soldier,” she said with a voice like ice. “I think you have a friend of mine.”

A scratchy reply. Natasha’s eyebrows lifted.

“We’ll take charge of that mission. Bye.”

She hung up and set the phone on the table.

“Geez,” said Tony. “I thought this guy was your friend.”

“He is,” said Narasha. “I’ll put the rest of your food in the fridge for you. You wake up Bruce, I’ll get Clint.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Tony. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. JARVIS?”

“Yes, Miss Romanoff?”

“Play the sound of a gong and a thousand monkeys screaming at top volume in Mr. Barton’s room, and drop the temperature to below freezing. Could you do that for me?”

“Of course, Miss Romanoff.”

+++

“I can’t go,” said Bruce.

He was working in the lab. Mixing chemicals. Some sort of chemicals. Not Tony’s forte.

Tony sat on the edge of the desk, dislodging a beaker that crashed to the ground and shattered. Bruce gave him a Look through a pair of safety goggles.

“I’ll buy you another one,” siad Tony.

Bruce lifted off the goggles and turned in his chair to face Tony. Tony squirmed a little under Bruce’s gaze.

“I’ll be upfront,” said Bruce. “I’m a little disappointed.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s—it’s fine. It’s just—” He hesitated. “I don’t want to trouble anybody. I don’t want to—pressure. But it feels like people keep waiting for me to pull my weight—”

“We’re not, really—”

“And I just can’t,” said Bruce. “I just. Can’t. I can’t control it. I don’t want to bother you. But you did…you did promise. That I’d be able to.”

Tony sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “For what it’s worth, I have been thinking about how to manage it. But not enough to actually have something for you, and I’m sorry about that.”

“No, I mean, I know it’s complicated. I’ve spent my whole life on this, I’m not expecting you to solve it in a couple of days.”

“Dr. Banner,” said Tony, and sighed.

“Oh, no,” said Bruce. “I don’t like that look.”

“I need to ask you—”

“No—”

“Would you be willing—”

“Tony.”

“For Steve,” said Tony. “I’m at my wits’ end here.”

“No one’s told me what’s going on,” said Bruce.

“He got abducted by Natasha’s mercenary friend,” said Tony. “Problem is, Natasha’s mercenary friend handed him over to HYDRA.”

“What’s HYDRA?” said Bruce.

“Oh,” said Tony, “oh, God. HYDRA is—HYDRA is what Steve died fighting. The first time. It’s…the big leagues. It’s awful. And the thought of him…trapped there…”

He met Bruce’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important,” he said.

“Tony…”

“I’ll have something for you. I promise. I swear. And these people aren’t innocent. They are…evil. And he stopped them, he killed them, way, way back, and so now he’s their mortal enemy. I can’t even imagine what they’re going to do to him.”

“I want him back as much as you do,” said Bruce. “But you’ll be better off without me.”

“I disagree.”

“You have a lot of opinions about a lot of things. That doesn’t mean you’re always right.”

Tony grinned despite himself.

“That’s true,” he said. “The real reason I’m always right is because I’m young and beautiful. And very rich. And you are a real asset to this team. Going in there, we’re going to need brute strength—”

“You.”

“Unpredictability—”

“Clint.”

“We’re going to need a lot of it.”

Bruce sighed.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Wheels up in ten minutes,” said Tony. “Think about it.”

He stood and made for the door.

“Wheels up?” said Bruce.

Tony spun around on his heel. He pointed both thumbs at his chest. “Genius billionaire,” he said.

Bruce chuckled a bit at that.

+++

Yes, Tony had a whole fleet of planes he’d never been able to take out of Stark Tower before.

Yes, he had no runway and no pilot, but if superheroes needed everything to be easy and safe, what were they even for?

+++

Clint and Natasha were screaming at each other in the kitchen.

“Поэтому каждый раз, когда ты заставляешь меня заполнять тебя,”  _ so every time you made me fill in for you— _ Clint was yelling.

“Я не твой солдат. Я не солдат ЩИТА.”  _ I am not your soldier. I am not SHIELD’s soldier. _

“Вы общались с ними все это время.”  _ You’ve been in contact with a gang of mercenaries this whole time. _

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Вы думаете, что могли бы остановить меня?”  _ You think you could have stopped me? _

“Я думал, что мы были честны друг с другом,” said Clint.  _ I thought we were honest with each other. _

“Я не твой питомец,”  _ I am not your pet— _

“Я думал, что мы доверяем друг другу. В заключение.”  _ I thought we trusted each other. Finally. _

“That’s stupid,” said Natasha. “Come or don’t.”

+++

They boarded the plane.

Tony paced up and down the aisle while Natasha and Clint explained the plan. The anger between the two of them was palpable. Banner was nowhere. Wheels went up in one minute.

“So then Bruce comes in from this side,” said Clint, pointing to the map he had sketched on a Stark Industries napkin, “and—“

“Bruce isn’t coming,” said Tony.

He stopped pacing and sat in one of the plush brown seats across the aisle from them.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I tried to convince him.”

“Это не ваша вина,” said Clint.

“For the last time,” said Tony, “I don’t know Russian.”

“Oh. Sorry. Uh—it’s not your fault.”

Tony shook his head.

“I feel like I should be able to give a big motivational speech right about now and get us all fighting,” he said. “I feel like I made you guys promises I couldn’t keep, and now the whole thing is…” He threw up his hands. “…falling apart.”

“It’s been, what. Two, three days,” said Clint.

“Right. I couldn’t keep it up for two days. I’ve already lost Steve, and I—“

“No. I mean. You can’t expect to work out all the kinks already. We don’t trust each other yet. That shit takes ages.”

“The good news is that we’re trained operatives,” said Natasha. “We don’t need motivational spiels. Coulson is terrible at giving them.”

“The Avengers isn’t your team,” said Clint. “It’s ours. We all lost Steve. We’re all going to get him back. We’re all going to hold together. You’re not in this alone.” He looked down at the sketch of the map. “But if Banner’s out, we need a new plan.”

“I have one,” said Natasha. “You’re not going to like it.”

Clint sighed.

“Ты доверяешь ему?” he said.  _ You trust him? _

“Конечно, нет.”  _ Of course not. _

“Then why do you want to work with him?” said Clint petulantly.

“Trust isn’t a factor.”

“Why not?”

“Because единственный человек, которому я доверяю, это ты,” said Natasha.  _ The only person I trust is you. _

Clint grinned.

“Aww,” he said. “I trust you, too.”

“You guys do realize I have absolutely no idea what’s going on right now,” said Tony.

“We’re going to team up with the Winter Soldier and his friend,” said Natasha. “Clint, get us into the air.”

“You think you can fly this thing?” said Tony to Clint. “It’s a little weird.”

Clint shrugged. “I’ve flown a quinjet. Can’t be too different.”

+++

“Okay,” Clint shouted, “this is different!”

“Everybody hang on!” yelled Natasha.

+++

“I don’t believe it,” said Sam. “There are Motel 6’s in Sokovia.”

“There are Motel 6’s everywhere, if you know where to look,” said Bucky.

He belly-flopped onto the bed.

“Hey, you’re going to mess up the covers,” said Sam, without much heat.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t get to it first.”

“Yeah, probably.” Sam sat on the edge and started taking off his shoes. “So now we wait? For your friend and her friend and Tony Stark to show up?”

“Now we strategize.” Bucky propped his chin up with his fists. “Theoretically, Steve likes these people, and that’ll make things easier for us once we rescue him. I’m not taking charge of nursing him back to health. And you have a life, you can’t take charge of it.”

“I can—“

“That wasn’t a question. But if he doesn’t, we’ll need to get him away from them.”

“So, what? You want me to bodily threaten Tony Stark?”

“You say that like he’s scary,” said Bucky.

“He is,” said Sam. “He could, I don’t know. Sue me. Plus, he’s Iron Man, so he could blast me into bits first.”

“You don’t need to be scared of Tony Stark. Tony Stark—“

“Let me guess,” said Sam. “He’s a punk bitch.”

“Yeah. And his dad was, too. But that’s what I mean. We need to make sure he isn’t threatening Steve somehow. So when they come, we need to be on the lookout for red flags. Signs they’re using Steve, or manipulating him. If you see anything that makes you worried, give me a meaningful glance.”

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Like that,” said Bucky.

“You are,” said Sam, “the weirdest person I’ve ever known.”

+++

They met in the lobby.

Tony, Natasha and Clint on one side. Bucky and Sam on the other.

Natasha stepped forward. So did Bucky. His sleeve lifted slightly, revealing a thin strip of steel.

“I told you I never wanted to see you again,” said Bucky. “But you just don’t listen, do you?”

“You asshole,” said Natasha.

“Monster.”

“Чушь собачья.”  _ Con man. _

“Pissnelke.”  _ Nerd. _

Bucky’s face split into a broad grin. He opened his arms, and Natasha leapt into them.

“I’ve missed you,” said Bucky, mussing her hair with a gloved fist. “Where’ve you been?”

Natasha laughed. “Where haven’t I been? I was all over, before I got tied down with the ублюдок, the ребенок and the ученый…”  _ the bastard, the baby, and the scientist…  _ “And now I’m chasing a senior citizen who got oldnapped. But what about you? You look different.”

“Well, I oldnapped a senior citizen, so there’s that.”

“I thought you weren’t going to work with многоголовый зверь anymore,” said Natasha in a low voice.  _ The many-headed beast. _

“They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Will you shut up about The Godfather?”

“It’s a good movie—“

“I am so tired of your Robert DeNiro impressions. And please tell me you got rid of the James Bonds.”

“I like them.”

“They’re…” She snapped her fingers, searching. “женоненавистник.”

“Misogynistic.”

“Right.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Trash them.”

“I’m not going to,” said Bucky. “I think Sean Connery is suave.”

“гомосексуальный,” Natasha muttered.  _ Homosexual.  _

“Shut up,” said Bucky. “Barton can understand us.”

“Clint is гомосексуальный, too.”

“Would you stop?” said Clint from behind her.

“Sorry,” said Natasha. She turned back to Bucky. “What did they give you?”

Bucky leaned down and whispered into her ear.

Natasha’s face went blank.

“Really,” she said.

“Really,” said Bucky.

“So you know.”

He nodded.

“You knew?” he said.

“You talked about him,” said Natasha. “A lot. But that was a long time ago.”

Bucky laughed. 

“I always forget you’ve known me for longer than anyone else,” he said. “And now I can remember a bit of it. You were…” He gestured. “…tiny. I wish I had pictures.”

“Big enough to надрать тебе задницу,” said Natasha.  _ Big enough to kick your ass. _

“Always,” said Bucky with a lopsided grin.

“Will someone please tell us what’s going on?” said Tony.

“Yeah, I second that,” said Sam.

“Third,” said Clint.

“Let me explain,” said Bucky. “This is my comrade, Sam Wilson. He drinks too much Red Bull, so he has wings. Big, metal ones. Belong to the government, but the government won’t miss ‘em. And as for me?”

He struck a dramatic pose. 

“The name’s Barnes,” he said. “Bucky Barnes.”

+++

“Okay, yeah,” said Tony, “but how are we getting Steve back?”

“Let’s go up to the room,” said Bucky.

+++

The five of them crowded around the coffee table. Bucky pulled a Sharpie out of his pocket.

Sam handed him a pencil. Bucky scowled at it.

He tugged the glove off of the metal hand and curled it around the pencil.

Bucky drew a few swift lines, squares and circles on the surface of the coffee table. He starred a couple of places.

“All right,” he said. “Steve’s probably here.” He pointed to one of the stars. “But he could also be here, here, or here.” He pointed to the other stars. “Security guards are everywhere, but in general they swarm around those four places. We need one person per place. They’ll get to their place, check it, and update the others. Tech guy, you have comms?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Tech guy,” said Bucky.

“He means you, Tony,” said Natasha.

“Yeah, you. Tech guy.”

“I have comms,” said Tony. “I also have a name.”

“Don’t be a baby,” said Natasha and Bucky in unison.

“It’s good you have comms,” Bucky added. “We’ll need them. We have to keep each other briefed on every detail.”

“Four people, one for each potential spot,” Clint murmured, staring at the makeshift map. “What about the fifth?”

“The fifth is our getaway driver and our backup in an emergency,” said Bucky. “I’m thinking that’s tech guy.”

“I have a super suit,” said Tony. “I’m literally a genius.”

Natasha and Clint locked eyes.

“Don’t do that,” said Tony. “Don’t—don’t give each other looks.”

“Bucky’s right,” said Clint.

“What about the other guy?” Tony waved a hand at Sam.

“Sam’s a war vet,” said Bucky. “And he’s an unknown. They’ll underestimate him.”

“Plus, he doesn’t have the kind of tech that could literally take over the world if it got into HYDRA’s hands,” said Clint.

“And we’re trained agents,” said Natasha. “We know HYDRA. We know their methods. We’re prepared for the worst.”

“I’m prepared—“

“It’s no less important of a job,” said Bucky.

“You know what? You can shut your mouth,” said Tony. “You don’t know me.”

“Tony,” said Natasha, “it’s logistics.”

“I can fight. Hell, I can—“

“I know you can.”

“I can help,” said Tony.

“It’s not about that,” said Natasha. 

Tony sighed.

“Get him back,” he said.

Natasha nodded. “Copy that.”

"The thing I still don't understand," said Clint, "is why SHIELD took Steve in the first place."

"Hill told me he went rogue," said Bucky. "That he was dangerous."

"Fury wanted control back, so he tried to break up the group," said Natasha.

"But why Steve?" said Clint. "Why not Bruce? Or you?" He nodded at Tony.

"Oh, I know that," said Tony. "Fury always said the Avengers were nothing without a leader. Steve's our leader, and without him, we're nothing."

"Shows how much he knows," said Clint.


	11. rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30 chapters into writing this, my chapters are getting much longer, so I'm going to combine chapters more often so that you guys get longer updates.  
>  **Warnings: references to torture, trauma, sensory deprivation, electroshock, etc. References to and brief depiction of psychotic break. Then comes the sunshine after the storm, and someone we've been missing...**

Clint crash-landed the plane in a field surrounded by trees, a few miles northeast of the compound. He and Natasha and Bucky and Sam peeled off in opposite directions.

Tony sat in the cockpit and fiddled with his thumbs. It was a horrible metaphor, he reflected—sitting in the cockpit of a plane he had made, but couldn’t fly. Listening as other people risked their lives.

“This is Falcon, I’m about a mile out from what I can tell. No guards so far, but I’m staying quiet anyway. Over.”

“Copy that, Falcon. This is Hawkeye, I’m staying high for now until the trees thin out. Spotted a couple watchmen not too far off. I’ll take them out if they start causing problems. Over.”

“This is Black Widow. Evaded a few guards, closing in on my entrance. Over.”

“Winter Soldier. I got sidetracked by a couple of guys with flamethrowers, but they’re dead now. Over.”

“You better keep that face of yours intact, Soldier,” said Sam. “Over.”

“Only for you, Falcon. Over.”

“I’m in,” said Natasha quietly.

“Good work, Widow,” said Clint. “Over.”

“Falcon, you using your wings?” said Bucky. “Over.”

“Not yet, Soldier. Why, should I? Over.”

“You shouldn’t. HYDRA has scanners for UFO’s above the trees. If they see anything, they shoot like crazy. Over.”

“Thanks for the warning,” said Sam dryly. “Over.”

“Hawkeye, those trees still nice and thick? Over,” said Bucky.

“Nah. I’m on foot now. Took down a couple guards, got their guns.” Clint paused. “About a minute out from my entrance, and I’m looking at a whole heap of guards. The second I show myself, they’re going to sound the alarm, and they’re going to tighten security. You guys want a second of head start? I can climb this nice pine and catch my breath. Over.”

“Too late for that,” said Natasha. “Alarm’s been sounded. Over.”

“Widow, you all right?” said Clint.

There was no response.

“Widow?”

“This is Falcon,” said Sam. “I’m in the facility. Over.”

“I’m going in too. Over,” said Clint.

“Oh, sorry, guys, forgot to tell you I’m in,” said Bucky. “Been inside for a couple minutes now. Lightly guarded. Either he’s not here or they’re trying to lure me into a false sense of security. Over.”

“This is Hawkeye. I’m in. Not too far from your entrance point, Widow, if you need backup. Over.”

“There’s a bunch of cells,” said Sam. “Guards stationed in front. None of them seems extra high security. I’m thinking he’s not here, but you never know. Going on the offensive. Over.”

“Good luck, Falcon. Over,” said Bucky.

“This is Hawkeye,” said Clint. “He’s not here. Over.”

“Get out of there, Hawkeye. Over,” said Tony.

“See you soon,” said Clint. “Last call on that backup, Widow. Over.”

“This is Winter Soldier. Things are getting heated in my neck of the woods. Thinking I might be on to something. Over.”

“This is Falcon. Got past the guards. We got a bunch of kids here. What do I do? Over.”

“Get out of there, Falcon,” said Clint. “Over.”

“And leave the kids?” said Sam quietly.

“They might be dangerous. Over.”

“I don’t know that I can do that. Over.”

“Leave them,” said Bucky. “Leave them and get out. Over.”

“This is Widow,” said Natasha. “I’ve found him—”

“Oh,” said Tony, “thank—”

“—but he can’t walk and there’s more guards coming. Also, I’ve taken an injury to the side. I’m going to need that backup, Hawkeye. Over.”

“I’m out of range,” said Hawkeye. “ETA five minutes at least.”

“I don’t have five minutes. Stark, how fast can you make it? Over.”

“Two minutes if I put thrusters on full,” said Tony. “I’m coming.”

“Stay below the trees,” said Bucky.

“You got it, Soldier. Over.”

“Hurry,” said Natasha.

+++

Tony blasted through the wall of the HYDRA compound.

Bullets ricocheted off of his armor. He blasted the guards out of his way.

“Armor at 73 percent integrity, sir,” said JARVIS.

“Thanks, JARVIS. Widow, where are you?” said Tony. “Over.”

“I’m in the white room behind Cell Block 13. Over,” said Natasha.

“Cell Block 13,” Tony murmured. “That’s the little one, right? Shaped kind of like a—messed up penis?”

Natasha sighed loudly. “Yes. That one. Over.”

Tony blasted a wall wide open. A cluster of guards started shooting.

“Hey, fellas,” he said. “Cranky, are we?”

“Armor at 55 percent integrity, sir.”

Tony shot down two guards with guns. Another came running at him with a knife that looked like a meat cleaver. He punched them square in the face with a metal fist.

“Sir, behind you—“

Tony whirled and blasted the guard creeping up behind him full in the chest with the repulsor. They went down, but in a second they were scrambling up again.

“What the hell, JARVIS?” He blasted them again, and they stayed down.

“Your repulsors are on half power, sir.”

“What? Why?”

“To divert attention to numbing the pain of the knife in your back.”

“Shit,” said Tony. “Okay, that’s enough. If I activate solar eclipse mode—“

“You’ll destabilize the structure of the building, sir.”

“How much of it?”

There was a pause.

“Will anyone I care about be crushed?” said Tony.

“No.”

“How many guards will it kill?”

“All of the guards in Miss Romanoff’s sector. But you’ll be running on almost no power.”

Tony blasted another guard, then got them again with the right hand repulsor. 

“Natasha,” he said, “I’m going to let loose a big energy surge. Flatten everything in your proximity. Take Steve and get him to the plane. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Copy,” said Natasha.

“Sir, I doubt your ability to—“

“Never underestimate me, JARVIS. Activating solar eclipse mode in three.”

“Sir, you only developed solar eclipse mode—“

“Two.”

“—yesterday, it hasn’t undergone any practical tests, it really is not wise—“

“One.”

“—with your suit in this vulnerable state, in unfamiliar—“

“Zero.”

“Sir—“

_ Boom. _

+++

Bucky found Sam outside of the compound. Sam’s face was streaked with dust. He was limping.

“I tried to help them,” said Sam. “They all—they’re all—“

“Come on,” said Bucky.

+++

“Help me,” said Natasha.

Clint lifted Steve’s legs. They were limp and crooked. Steve moaned, his hair matted and dark with blood. He mumbled frantic gibberish and scratched at Natasha’s arms with his fingernails.

Together, they eased him into a seat on the plane.

“Where’s Tony?” said Clint.

“On his way,” said Natasha. “I hope.”

+++

Tony’s ears rang with a faint, dull note.

There were rocks above him, and rocks below him, and rocks around him. The visual flickered—17 percent integrity. His oxygen tank was at 43 percent capacity. Both were draining fast.

_ Jarvis,  _ he said, he knew he said it, even though he couldn’t hear his own voice,  _ Jarvis, divert all power into thrusters. Get me to the surface. _

_ And then get me out of the suit. _

He was rising. The rocks pressed in on him, crunched around him—he could feel the vibrations, the earth shuddering around him—and fell away.

The suit crumbled. It retreated. Tony spilled out.

He collapsed onto a mountain of rocks, scraping his knees and his wrists. His jaw cracked against a boulder.

He lay there for a moment, shaking and shivering, aching everywhere.

Slowly, he started to move.

+++

Bucky ran up the aisle of the plane.

“Do we still have him?” he said. “Is he dangerous?”

“It seems like they got him to the psychotic break stage and then put him in sensory deprivation to stew for a bit,” said Natasha. “I don’t think they got him. I think he’s going to be okay.”

Bucky grinned wildly. He wrapped Natasha in a hug.

+++

When Tony made it to the plane, everyone gathered around him, shouting and gesticulating. He couldn’t hear a word. 

He counted the faces. Natasha. Clint. Sam. Bucky.

His shoulders sagged in relief.

He pointed to his ears.

Clint understood first. He signed something, and when Tony stared at him blankly, he swiped a hand in front of his face. Along his side. Across his chest.

_ Oh,  _ said Tony.  _ My suit? _

Clint nodded.

_ I had to leave it behind,  _ said Tony.  _ It was running out of power. It was going to trap me. _

Bucky locked eyes with Natasha and said something. Natasha nodded. Bucky slipped away.

_ Where’s Steve?  _ said Tony.

+++

Steve was staring at the ceiling of the plane. Tears streamed down his face. His lips moved.

_ Hey, buddy,  _ said Tony.

Tony sat across the aisle and took Steve’s ruined hand. He curled Steve’s stiff, bloody fingers in his and pulled their joined hands out into the center of the aisle, where they hung and swung gently back and forth. Tony scraped his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand. Steve looked up at the ceiling and cried.

+++

Bucky came back empty-handed. Natasha and Sam met him.

“The suit is gone,” said Bucky. “They must’ve beaten me to it.”

Natasha’s mouth thinned into a grim line.

“Okay,” said Natasha. “Let’s get out of here.”

+++

Bruce stepped out of the lab, wringing his hands. 

Bucky, Sam, Tony and Natasha looked up.

“How is he?” said Natasha.

“Well,” said Bruce, “you were right. He’s suffered a brief psychotic break due to trauma, but with some time to rest and recover, he should be fine. He’s showing symptoms of electroshock and sensory isolation, and—“ He nodded at Natasha. “—you mentioned you found him in a white room, which adds up. He’s also still dealing with the effects of a really heavy dosage of some kind of psychedelic drug. I can’t pinpoint what it is—“

“LSD 50, I’d guess,” said Bucky.

“That would match up with what I’m seeing. He’s also got a dislocated left knee and a spiral fracture in his right femur. He’s going to be stuck in bed for a while, and on crutches for a while after that. I’m imagining the serum is going to go a long way towards helping him heal quickly from his physical injuries. He’s going to need surgery. And he’s really going to need therapy. Luckily, I have some friends from college I can call, for the surgery. And for the therapy…um. An—old flame? Of mine? He’s the best in the industry.”

“That won’t be a conflict of interest?” said Sam.

“Oh, no, we’re on good terms. Actually, I…”

Bruce took a breath.

“I think all of you should talk to him,” he said.

There was a collective outcry.

“No—no—because—listen to me. Listen to me. Steve has just gone through intense physical and psychological torture. But you know what? He seems no more insane to me than any of you right now. None of you have showered, you’re all covered in blood, you smell like nothing else on this Earth. Natasha keeps throwing knives at the ceiling that Clint’s been crawling around in for the past 5 hours. Tony, you’re trying to design a sexy cat robot that also fights fires.”

“It’s an untapped market,” said Tony.

“And that man is eating a chicken bone.”

They all turned to look at Bucky.

“What?” said Bucky. “It’s high in calcium.”

+++

Dr. Jane Foster, surgeon, was a nervous-looking woman with a rod-straight back and hands that never seemed to stay still. She surveyed Bruce’s hastily prepared operating room, running her gloved hands along the white sheets and operating instruments, scanning the windows and the place where the wall met the floor.

“Well,” she said, “it’ll do the job. Dr. Lewis?”

Anaesthesiologist Darcy Lewis—all dark hair, eyeshadow, and glossy pink lipstick—smiled. “You got it, Jane. Let’s bring him in.”

+++

Bruce sat in his lab. He propped his feet up on the desk and smiled as he made a call.

“Donnie,” he said, “I need a favor.”

+++

Bruce knocked carefully three times on Dr. Donnie Blake’s front door. It swung open.

Donnie was maybe the biggest man in the world. He stood about a foot above Steve, who should by logic have been the biggest man in the world. He had blue puppy eyes, shoulder-length hair worthy of Rapunzel, and a blinding smile.

“Banner!” he yelled.

He lunged at Bruce and engulfed him in a rib-crushing hug.

“You’re too thin,” he said. “I can feel your bones. Luckily, I have prepared us a mighty feast! Come, come!”

Bruce followed him timidly inside. The house was huge and ornate, all wood paneling and high, vaulted ceilings. There were faint carvings etched into the walls, long, flowing lines—snakes? Dragons?

“Your house is beautiful,” said Bruce. “Did you have it built especially?”

“I had to, eventually. Try as I might, I couldn’t handle it all myself.” Donnie hung his head for a moment, then abruptly revived. “Come, the fire pit is this way. Our meal should be almost ready.”

+++

“Donnie,” said Bruce, “what is that?”

Donnie beamed. “Our dinner!”

The giant shape revolved slowly on a spit above the massive, glowing fire pit.

“Yes,” said Bruce, “but what is it?”

“Roast ox. With sweet paprika and lemon.”

“Oh,” said Bruce.

“Magnificent, is it not?”

“It’s,” said Bruce. “Wow.”

His eyes were torn away from the smoldering animal by the glint of metal on the ground.

“Donnie,” he said, “what’s with the hammer?”

Donnie turned. Bruce pointed.

“The what?” said Donnie.

“The hammer in the middle of your yard.”

Donnie stared directly at the hammer with a confused expression.

“What do you mean?” he said. 

“There’s a—“ Bruce gestured at the hammer. 

With a shrug, Donnie turned away.

“Magnificent ox,” said Donnie. “Isn’t it?”

+++

Donnie’s dining room was full of light, warmth, and carvings of dragons and trolls. Bruce sat across from him in one of the two plain chairs at the far end of a vast table of pine. The rest of the table was surrounded by large thrones of increasing decoration, culminating in the biggest one at the head of the table—the wood carved to look like roots, an eye painted in gold on the headboard.

“Who are the other chairs for?” said Bruce. He strained to read the placards on the ornate thrones, but they were written in Norwegian runes.

“I don’t know,” said Donnie. “But maybe they’ll come and sit, and then I’ll know.”

He wiped away a tear.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I like to imagine my family there. I don’t know what they would look like. But somehow, I feel that they would be drunk.”

+++

“It looks like business is booming for you,” said Bruce.

“Oh, it is. Waiting list of around six thousand at last count. How did you know?”

“Well, the house is spectacular.”

“Oh,” said Donnie. He gave a confused laugh. “I don’t make money from psychiatry.”

“But,” said Bruce. “I thought you said—“

“I’m a pro bono psychiatrist, Banner. I would never dream of charging my clients.”

“Then where did you get the money from?”

Donnie’s face went blank.

“Inheritance,” he said in a flat monotone. Then he grinned. “And what about you? How has the science been treating you?”

“Uh,” said Bruce, “it’s been…complicated. Donnie, can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

Bruce took a breath.

“I’ve fallen in with a team of superheroes,” said Bruce. “And they need your help.”

“Ah,” said Donnie.

He reached across the table. Bruce’s hand jerked away. Donnie picked up the water pitcher.

“More water?” said Donnie, nodding to Bruce’s near-empty glass.

Bruce flushed. “Thank you.”

“I appreciate you coming to me, Banner,” said Donnie. “I have to say, there was always a part of me that wondered if our…if my indiscretions during our time together had soured your opinion of me.”

Bruce laughed a little giddily. “No, of course not. You were—you were fine.”

Donnie smiled. 

“I appreciate it,” he said. “I really do. And I would love nothing more than to help an old friend. But…Banner, I’m so busy nowadays. There are so many people who need my help. And…superheroes…how much help do they really need?”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up.

“That’s the problem?” he said.

“That’s my hesitation.”

“Well,” said Bruce, “why don’t you…why don’t you come by and talk to them a bit and see how much they need you?”

+++

When Steve woke up, he wasn’t alone.

“I’m not seeing Bruce’s ex,” said Clint.

“Yes, you are,” said Natasha, sounding tired.

“You can talk. You aren’t seeing him either.”

“That’s because I already have a therapist.”

“Can we see your therapist?” said Clint.

“No.”

“Ten bucks says your therapist is better.”

“She is.”

“Why can’t we see her?” Clint whined.

“She’s very exclusive, very expensive, very discreet.”

“Very Russian, you mean,” said Clint.

“Well, obviously,” said Natasha.

“I mean, I’m not seeing him.” 

It was Tony. Steve’s heart leapt.

“Right,” said Clint. “See? Tony’s not going, so who’s going to pay the guy?”

“I mean, I’ll pay him to talk to Steve. I’m not paying a cent beyond that. I do want to meet him.”

“Why?” said Clint.

“I want to meet Bruce’s shrink ex. Sue me.”

“Can I?”

“No, I’ll crush your ass in court.”

“Guys,” said Natasha, “I think Steve’s awake.”

The room went quiet. Steve stayed as still as possible.

“Really?” said Tony.

“Yeah, his eyes opened a little.”

There were a few more seconds of tense silence.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Clint.

“I didn’t see anything,” said Tony.

“Okay,” said Natasha. “I must have imagined it.”

+++

“All right, everyone,” said Bruce. “This is Dr. Blake. He’s going to be—“

“Doc, can I talk to you for a sec?” said Tony.

He leaned forward and whispered in Bruce’s ear.

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” said Bruce. “He’s pro bono.”

Tony’s face went ashen.

“Wonderful,” said Tony, in his best Howard Stark Fake Voice. He turned to the others. “This is Dr. Blake, everyone. You’re all going to be seeing him.”

  
  



	12. donnie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: general trigger warning for Norse mythology. Also, amnesia, non-graphic depictions of violence, PTSD due to trauma, existential crisis (does it count as a midlife crisis if you've been frozen for 70 years?), bad coping mechanisms and unwillingness to Therapy, isolation and loneliness, some scattered swearing, trust issues, and some REALLY bad consent issues at the end, really not great, do not do this at home, not acceptable whatsoever. Everybody stay safe.**

Tony fidgeted on the couch.

“And where are you from?” said Dr. Blake.

“New York,” said Tony. “Born and raised.”

“Ah. And—“

“What about you?”

“Oh—Norway,” said Dr. Blake. “I left there many years ago to find a career here.”

“Nice. Norway. Never met a Norwegian before. What’s it like there?”

Dr. Blake blinked.

“Wonderful,” he said. “So many rainbows.”

+++

“No,” said Clint.

“Yes,” said Natasha. She opened the door and pushed him through. Then she closed the door behind him.

“Mr. Barton!” said Dr. Blake. “Welcome, friend Barton!”

“No,” said Clint. He turned to the door, found that it wouldn’t open, and started climbing the wall to the air vent.

A hand closed around his foot.

“You are here for your appointment, are you not?” said Dr. Blake.

+++

“So,” said Tony with the air of a predator stalking his prey, “I hear you and Bruce go way back.”

“We do. We had mutual friends in college, and they recommended me to him and him to me—“

“They set you up?”

“Oh, not on a—“ Dr. Blake laughed, but his eyes were terrified. “Not on a date. No, no, no. As a client. I was his therapist.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh,” said Tony.

“We worked together for quite a while, but then Bruce decided to…” Dr. Blake’s shoulders drooped. “…end the relationship. The professional one, that is. Nothing personal. Just professional. Now—“ He straightened. “How long have you been Iron Man?”

“Doctor,” said Tony. He smiled. “You can tell me. That wasn’t all there was to the relationship, was it?”

Dr. Blake blanched.

“This is a safe space,” said Tony.

+++

“The thing is,” said Bucky, “sometimes I’ll try to think back, like, what was I doing that day? Did my mom or my dad do the cooking? What was my sister’s name? And I can almost remember, but something—something’s in the way.”

“I hate when that happens,” said Dr. Blake.

“It happens to you, too?”

“All the time. Nothing to worry about.”

+++

“How did it go?” said Sam.

Bucky grinned. “Turns out, I’m totally normal!”

+++

“I long for his embrace,” Dr. Blake sobbed into Tony’s shoulder. “His sweet lips…his kind eyes…but I can never have him in the way that I need…”

Tony patted Dr. Blake’s massive head.

“Hey, calm—calm down, buddy,” he said. “No need to cry, okay? Stop—stop crying. Please.”

“I made him an ox,” said Dr. Blake. “I roasted him a whole ox and he doesn’t even notice me. I pretend to be fine, but I’m not. I long for his sweet embrace…”

“Okay, now you’re repeating yourself.”

Dr. Blake sobbed harder.

+++

“You are leading me on a merry chase, friend Barton,” said Dr. Blake. Standing on the couch, he blocked the air vent with ease, and his head was pressed against the ceiling. “But instead of running, let us fight like men!”

+++

“Listen. Hey—“ Tony poked Dr. Blake’s head. “Pay attention. Stop crying.” He shoved him away. “Stop. Stop it now. Listen.”

Dr. Blake withdrew and stared at him dolefully.

“Nothing is hopeless,” said Tony. “Okay? I mean, fine. Some things are technically hopeless. But that doesn’t mean you stop hoping. I mean, I—“

He took a breath.

“There’s a guy,” he said, “and—it’s literally ridiculous for me to expect anything, and no, I’m not going to tell you who he is, I’m just telling you that it’s literally not going to happen, but I…I keep hoping. I mean, that’s what love is about, right? You believe in something even when it seems stupid, even when it seems like all hope is lost, you keep believing.”

Dr. Blake sniffled.

“A rousing speech,” he said, “exquisite in content and execution.”

“Okay. Can we change the subject?”

“Let us talk about—“

“Let’s talk about you,” said Tony. “What are your parents like?”

“Well, I never knew them.”

“Oh, God,” said Tony. “Don’t start crying again—“

“But I do remember that their names were Odd and Fridd. Quite prominent among our people, if I remember. And my father had only one eye.”

Tony relaxed. He settled back in his chair.

“Tell me more,” he said.

+++

“Get—off—me—you—maniac,” Clint yelled.

Dr. Blake had him in a headlock and was cheerfully rubbing Clint’s head with his knuckles. Clint jerked his head back to bash Dr. Blake’s nose.

“Ah,” said Dr. Blake, letting Clint go and cupping a hand around his nose. “A worthy blow, friend!”

+++

Dr. Blake contemplated the roughly drawn family tree in front of him.

“This is quite wonderful! I had forgotten all of this until now. No one asked me about my family when I was in medical school…thank you for this!”

“Anytime,” said Tony.

“So then Hodd and Lodd, my father’s brothers, faded into the background to make more room for him.” He crossed off ‘Hodd’ and ‘Lodd.’ “Now, my mother, Fridd, was my father’s favorite wife…”

+++

There was a knock on the door. Steve looked up.

“Captain Rogers,” said a man with a mane of yellow hair. “I’m Dr. Blake. I’m here to talk to you.”

Steve swallowed.

Dr. Blake sat by Steve’s bedside.

“I hear you recently went through an ordeal,” he said.

Steve nodded. He cleared his throat with difficulty.

“Y—yes,” he said.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Steve stared.

“I don’t know that I…can,” he said. His voice cracked.

Dr. Blake nodded.

“Let’s start with your name,” he said.

“Steve Rogers,” said Steve, a little too loudly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Steve,” said Dr. Blake solemnly. “I’m Donnie.”

He held out his hand. Steve took it.

+++

“My youngest brother was named Baldd. He was a baby.”

“Was he bald?” said Tony.

“Oh, no. He had a beautiful head of thick, golden hair like a field of wheat. I still remember when Hod shot him with an arrow.”

“What?”

“It was horribly tragic. His wife was devastated.”

“Hodd’s wife?”

“No, Baldd’s wife. Nann.”

“Wait,” said Tony. “The baby had a wife?”

“They were a very loving couple.”

“What—I don’t—wait, didn’t Hodd fade into the background or whatever?”

“Oh, no,” said Dr. Blake. “Hodd, my uncle, faded into the background. My brother, Hod, is a valiant warrior, although blind.”

“There are two Hodds?”

“No—there is one Hod, and one Hodd. Close, but different.”

“So this one is your brother, Hodd?”

“No, Hodd.”

“Hod.”

“Hodd.”

“Hod.”

“Hodd.”

“No matter! You will pick it up as we go along. Anyway, Baldd’s death was the last straw with my father. He broke his promise to—“

Dr. Blake blinked.

“I can’t remember,” he said. He grinned. “No matter. I shall tell you of my other family members. Of course, I haven’t known any of them since I was three, so my memory is limited.”

“Right,” said Tony. “Of course. What happened with that?”

Dr. Blake blinked at him.

“Sorry, what?”

“What happened to your family? Why don’t you know them? How come you remember all this stuff even though you were three when whatever it was happened?”

Dr. Blake’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“My apologies,” he said. “I don’t…”

His face cleared.

“What were we talking about?”

+++

“I really don’t think I’m supposed to be alive,” said Steve. “I’m not, I’m not trying to be dramatic, I’m not trying to get sympathy. I really don’t think I should be alive right now.”

Dr. Blake nodded.

“Captain Rogers,” he said, “do you believe in God?”

“I do.”

“Do you believe that he intends for you to be alive?”

“I do. But I think…I don’t think I can do what he wants me to do.”

“What do you think he wants you to do?”

Steve didn’t answer for a long time. He lifted his hand off the sheets, looked at it, and set it down.

“I made a promise to myself,” he said. “I can’t…I haven’t told anybody yet.” An edge of panic crept into his voice. “You can’t tell anybody.”

“Of course not,” said Dr. Blake.

Steve’s jaw was tense.

“I can’t be a superhero,” said Steve in a rush. “I can’t…I can’t be a soldier.”

He stared at the bedsheets, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said.

+++

“Banner,” said Dr. Blake.

“Oh, no,” said Bruce.

Donnie’s right eye was adorned with a purple bruise. His lip was split and swollen, and there was a gap where one of his perfect teeth had been. He was beaming.

“Your friends,” he said, “are the most deranged, delusional and emotionally constipated group of people I have ever met.”

“I can—“ Bruce began.

“When can I come back?”

+++

Tony stormed into the lab, Dum-E in tow.

“Bruce,” he said. “Let’s chat.”

“How was therapy?” said Bruce.

“Your boyfriend is a thunder god.”

Bruce started to laugh.

“No,” said Tony. “No. You are going to listen to me, because if it weren’t for the Avengers’ instinctive resistance to psychological help, every single member of this team would have unloaded their deepest, darkest secrets and fears to Thor, god of thunder.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe nothing, maybe everything. Probably not nothing. It’s very clever. See, I used my therapy time to interrogate the so-called Dr. Blake—“

“Really, Tony?” said Bruce.

“Yes, really, and also, get that judgy face off, Doctor, because I am a genius, and totally emotionally healthy. Or, whatever, I’ll do therapy later. First, we need to figure out why the hell your ex is so weird. Hint. He’s a thunder god.”

“Tony, that’s—“

“Or he thinks he is. Or he’s playing a very elaborate prank. Or he somehow doesn’t realize that his parents have played a very elaborate prank on him. Or two out of three, or all three, but in any case, he couldn’t tell me a single thing about his family or his life that didn’t involve babies with full heads of hair getting shot or crossdressing as his friend to get her out of a forced marriage or people whose names ended in D. And even then, he couldn’t remember things. He kept insisting that he hasn’t seen his family since he was three—“

“He hasn’t.”

“His friend was forty. He crossdressed as a forty year old woman,” said Tony, “and it worked. He fooled people. He went fishing and caught a serpent. Have you heard of a three year old doing those things?”

“He’s Donnie,” said Bruce.

“That’s not an explanation.”

“He’s weird. He’s, I don’t know. He’s Donnie. None of us listen when he talks. I don’t think he knows what he’s talking about half the time.”

“This isn’t weird,” said Tony. “I know weird. I invented weird.”

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”

“No, no, no,” said Tony. “This is beyond weird. This is bizarre. This is…this is incredible. He’s an amnesiac who thinks he’s Thor, but he doesn’t really—I don’t think he knows that his childhood memories are ripped straight from Norse mythology. And that they’re totally fucking insane. I don’t think he knows who Thor is. He’s Norwegian! How does he not know who Thor is?”

“I don’t know, he’s—“

“There’s more. I tried to get him to draw a family tree. May I present…exhibit A. Dum-E?”

Dum-E whirred as he moved to point his claw at a roughly scribbled diagram peppered with question marks and names ending in D.

“That’s impossible,” said Bruce. “No man could have that many kids.”

“This one did,” said Tony. “And his name was Odd. And he had an eye patch.”

“Odin,” said Bruce.

“Yes. And Dr. Blake’s mother, Fridd—or Frigg, or Frigga. His brothers, Hod—just Hod, I checked—and Baldd, the baby, a.k.a Balder, who was shot with an arrow. A sprig of mistletoe, by blind Hod, not Hodd, or Hoenir, incidentally—who was guided by…Loki. The one man our Dr. Blake never mentioned, but that’s by the by. Now.” Tony crossed his arms. “Tell me, Doc. Tell me honestly. Do you really believe that Dr. Blake is who he claims to be?”

Bruce stared.

“Oh, my God,” he said.

Tony’s lips quirked into a little smile of satisfaction.

“Do you want to tell Steve,” he said, “or should I?”

+++

There was another knock on Steve’s door.

“Hey, Cap,” said Tony.

“Tony,” said Steve. “Thank goodness. I’m so bored.”

“I have good timing, then.”

“You should’ve come hours ago.”

Tony sat in a chair by the bed. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see me.”

“Of course I did,” said Steve. “I’m in the same tower as everybody and nobody’s coming to see me, everyone’s treading water around me ever since I woke up—“

“Are you okay?” said Tony.

“No,” said Steve. “No. I’m not. I’m so—I want people to come. I don’t want to force anybody—I just—I don’t want—“

Tony laid a hand on Steve’s arm. Steve stilled.

“Hey,” said Tony, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know why you would think I would want to be alone.”

“We were all trapped in therapy with Dr. Blake.”

“All of you?” said Steve. “For four hours?”

Tony’s jaw clenched.

“Steve,” said Tony, “Natasha’s finally letting them really look at the stab wound in her side. She wouldn’t let them do anything but slap bandages on it until you were awake. Bruce has been trying to butter up Dr. Blake so you’d have the best therapist in New York. Clint—I mean, God knows what Clint’s been doing—but the point is, it’s not like we’ve forgotten about you. We flew in and rescued you from HYDRA—“

“Yeah, I know, and I’m grateful,” said Steve irritably.

“You don’t sound it.”

Steve’s face went blank.

“I’m sorry,” said Tony. “I’m sorry, that was too far, I crossed a line. Please forgive me.”

“It’s fine,” said Steve. 

He lay back onto the pillows. His eyes were shiny.

“Oh, God. Did I make you cry?”

“Tony—“

“I’m sorry—“

“I don’t want to be alone,” said Steve. His chin trembled. “That’s it.”

“And you won’t be. From here on out. We will cluster around you, and you’ll never get a moment of peace. You’ll be sick of us. I promise.”

“That sounds nice,” said Steve.

“You say that now.”

Steve smiled at the ceiling. His smile faded quickly.

He turned to Tony, and for maybe the first time, Tony felt that Steve was looking right at him. Seeing him.

“Tony,” said Steve, “I’ve been thinking about having regrets, and I don’t want to have them. So I’m going to say something.”

“Okay.”

“No, it’s, it’s stupid for me to say it. But I…I feel like every second I get is stolen. And sooner or later, there’s going to be consequences.”

Tony chuckled halfheartedly. “I think you’ve had enough consequences.”

“There’s never enough consequences,” said Steve. “Everything feels like a dream right now. I want to do every stupid thing that comes to my head. I don’t want to think about cause and effect. I don’t want to worry about what I should do, what I’m supposed to do, or what anybody else wants. Except for you.”

“Except for me?” said Tony.

Steve nodded. His eyes were a fierce blue.

“I like you,” said Steve. 

“I like you, too.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Tony choked. Steve kept going.

“I want to get to know you,” he said, “and talk to you for every second we can get and be around you all the time. I want to learn you. I want to memorize you. I think you’re amazing.”

Tony’s face heated. His mind raced.

“Oh,” he said.

“If you don’t feel the same way, I’ll shut up about it, I promise. I won’t be awkward or anything. But I can’t wait, and I can’t stop to think, I have to ask you—“

“Yes,” said Tony.

Steve’s mental processes thudded to a halt. Tony watched it happen on his face.

“Yes?” said Steve.

Tony nodded.

He leaned in.

Their lips touched.

“Holy shit,” Steve murmured against Tony’s lips.

“Language,” said Tony.

There was a muffled bang from the ceiling.

“Are you guys kissing?” said Clint’s voice. “Great, I won—“

Tony craned his neck.

“Fuck you, Barton,” Tony yelled. “Fuck you—“

“Don’t mind me,” said Clint. “Keep going.”

“Fuck you royally,” said Tony.

“Tony,” said Steve. He looked at Tony like Tony was the only thing worth seeing.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to fucking swoon,” said Tony. “And it’ll be all your fault.”

Steve laughed, smiled  _ really,  _ and Tony grinned from ear to fucking ear.

“You just swore more in a minute than you’re ever going to swear for the rest of your fucking life,” said Steve innocently.

Tony gasped. “Rogers, you absolute scoundrel—“

Steve‘s face glowed with childish delight. “What, are you surprised or something?”

“You’re Captain America.”

“I wasn’t always. Back when I was Steve Rogers, I had the filthiest mouth in Brooklyn.”

“Stop talking,” said Tony. “Stop. I’m going to faint. I’m seeing stars.” 

“How about this,” said Steve. “As soon I can walk, I’m taking you on a real date. To a nice restaurant. I’ll pay, and I’m getting you flowers—“

“You evil, evil man.”

“We’ll go dancing and I’ll dip you.”

“I have it on good authority that you can’t dance,” said Tony.

“Oh, no,” said Steve, “no, that was a joke.”

“No,” said Tony.

“No, because Peggy and Bucky got jealous I always danced with the girls better than they could, so whenever we were talking they’d always make jokes about my terrible dancing. And then they talked around Howard, and he thought they really meant it. It was ironic. It was irony. I mean, I was a colorblind asthmatic who’d had every fever under the sun. I had to have some kind of appeal.”

“No,” said Tony. “No. That’s not possible.”

“It’s okay,” said Steve.

“It is so far from—“

“You can still teach me how to Google.”

“I will. And if you ask anybody else,” said Tony, “I will…” He trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna. I’m gonna really.”

“Oh, you’re not going to say anything,” said Steve.

“No, I’m going to leave it open.”

“That’s terrifying,” said Steve.

Tony dissolved into a fit of laughter. He wiped at his eyes.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, and. The rest of the team’s outside.”

“What?” said Steve. “Why?”

“Blake’s a Norse god,” said Tony.

+++

“Here’s the plan,” said Natasha. “Bruce is going to go over to Dr. Blake’s house again.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” said Bruce.

“Tempt him,” said Tony. “Use your wiles.”

“Tony—“

“Stark’s right,” said Natasha. “Getting an invite shouldn’t be a problem, Dr. Blake clearly still has feelings for you. We can use that to our advantage.”

Bruce spluttered. Natasha talked over him.

“While Bruce is in Dr. Blake’s home, his main mission will be investigating the hammer in Dr. Blake’s backyard. Our most promising theory so far is that the hammer is somehow related to his amnesia, and if Bruce could contrive a way to get him to acknowledge or touch the hammer, it could bring about a full recovery of his memories. If that isn’t possible, or if it doesn’t work, Bruce can at least prod more about what’s going on and try to figure out what could be causing this…confusion.”

“Ask him about his weight lifting routine,” said Tony.

“I meant more along the lines of rifling through his personal belongings, but whatever you decide,” said Natasha dryly.

+++

After the meeting, Bucky took Tony aside.

“How is he?” he said. “I didn’t want to come in, because it would just upset him, but—“

Tony took back several cruel and judgemental things that he had previously thought about Bucky Barnes.

“He’s okay,” said Tony. “He’s going to be okay. And in a few days we’ll tell him the whole story.”

Bucky smiled lopsidedly. “Thanks.”

He clapped a metal hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony winced.

“Glad he has you,” said Bucky.

+++

Natasha butterfly-stroked across the jacuzzi in a red one-piece, eyes closed, the picture of relaxation.

“Natasha,” said Bruce, “can I talk to you?”

She reached the side and slid up onto it, dripping. 

“Sure,” she said. One hand reached up to wring out her hair.

Bruce kneeled awkwardly on the other side of the hot tub. It felt strange to stand over Natasha.

“I wanted to ask you for a favor,” he said.

“Shoot.”

“Would you go with me?”

Natasha’s eyes met his.

“I thought you trusted this guy,” she said.

“I trust Donnie,” said Bruce. “I don’t trust…if I do this, and it works, and he gets his memories back, and he’s really—I don’t know—“

“Thor.”

“Right—uh, I don’t trust Thor. I don’t know Thor.”

“Why didn’t you mention this at the meeting?”

“Well, I—“

Bruce fiddled with his hands.

“I don’t trust Tony,” he said. “I know you trust Clint. I don’t trust him. I like them a lot, but I don’t—and I should trust them, they’re my team—“

“I understand,” said Natasha. “But we don’t know what powers might come along with…Donnie’s memories. We don’t know what he’s capable of. If you really think him recovering is likely, it might be best to have more people—“

“He might be capable of a lot. But he’d have to lose a whole lot to become somebody dangerous. I mean, no matter what kinds of powers he has, I…I’m worried that if he wasn’t in control—I mean, I don’t want them to overreact. I don’t want him to get hurt. I don’t want him to be…imprisoned, I don’t want us to run tests—“

“Bruce,” said Natasha, “I understand.”

Bruce exhaled.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m grateful for your trust. Not sure I deserve it, but I’m grateful. And I’d be happy to come if it would make you feel better.”

“Thank you,” said Bruce again.

“Sure,” said Natasha.

She hesitated.

“I don’t actually have to talk to this guy, right?”

“Oh, no. You can stay in the car.”

“Good.”

+++

The door was flung open, and there was a joyful cry of “Banner!” before Donnie knocked all the breath out of Bruce’s lungs. Bruce patted him gently on the back.

“The ox was so good, I had to come again,” said Bruce.

+++

“Hey, Donnie,” said Bruce. “There’s an interesting bug down here, want to look?”

Donnie glanced at the spot of grass where the hammer rested. His face went blank.

“I don’t like bugs,” he said.

+++

“I dropped my contact. Could you help me look for it?”

“I’d rather not.”

+++

“There are nice daisies for flower crowns in this spot. You love flower crowns.”

“I don’t see any daisies.”

“That’s because you’re standing. Come sit down, and you’ll see them.”

”I don’t see any daisies.”

“Come sit down—they’re small, they’re easy to—“

“I don’t see any daisies.”

+++

“Help me up, I’ve fallen down here and I—“

“No, thank you.”

+++

“Come over here and stargaze with me.”

“The stars are better where I am,” said Donnie sulkily.

“Really? I don’t think so. I think these are the best stars I’ve seen anywhere. Right here. This spot.”

There was a moment of silence, trudging footsteps, and then Donnie was staring down at Bruce, upside down in Bruce’s vision.

“Banner,” he said, “why do you like that spot of grass so much? You haven’t left it all night. And you haven’t touched your roast boar.”

Bruce looked up at him.

He heaved himself up into a sitting position.

“Donnie,” he said quietly, “can I hold your hand?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t,” said Donnie. “Can’t.”

“Do you trust me?”

Donnie’s blue eyes were foggy and confused.

“Yes,” he said.

“Then why won’t you let me hold your hand?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Can’t.”

Bruce reached out. Donnie jerked his hands away and stuffed them in his pockets. His eyes were wet.

“Donnie—“

“Leave me alone,” said Donnie.

“Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” said Donnie. “I don’t know—“

“Donnie,” said Bruce. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re going to make me…”

“I’m not going to make you do anything.”

Donnie’s eyes darted from side to side.

“You promise?”

Bruce nodded.

Slowly, Donnie nodded.

Bruce took Donnie’s hands. Donnie trembled, but didn’t pull away.

Their eyes met.

“I’m sorry,” said Bruce, and then he pulled Donnie down.

With inhuman strength, Donnie roared and bucked away, but Bruce forced his hand down, down, until it brushed the handle of the hammer. Donnie screamed. Lightning seemed to come from inside him, streaming from his chest, crackling around him. He rose from the ground in a circle of it, in a sphere, screaming. Then the lightning was gone, and he fell.

“Oh, God,” said Bruce. “Oh, God. Oh, no.”

Donnie sat up. Bruce stared.

There was lightning in Donnie’s eyes.

“By the powers of Odin,” said Donnie. “This is a strange place.”


	13. thor, god of thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: scattered swearing, references to amnesia and memory loss, references to loss of bodily autonomy, loss of children, enslavement of children, and dub-con sex (all canon or semi-canon to Norse mythology), references to loss of family, loss of friends.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm introducing Loki, it's probably important that I clear up some things about this fic's version of Loki--which hews much more closely to Norse mythology than the Marvel version, mostly because Norse mythology is so much more bizarre and wonderful than anything Marvel dreamt up for Loki. So Loki is technically Thor's uncle, because he is blood brothers with Odin. He is still played by Tom Hiddleston, because Norse gods don't actually age, which is why Odin is described in this chapter as looking much younger than he does in Marvel (I imagine him played by Arthur Darvill, but feel free to have your own ideas!) Loki is genderfluid, which is basically canon but Marvel refuses to acknowledge it. I will start by referring to him with he/him pronouns, because that's what he uses at this point, but later on that could change.

Bruce shook all over. He breathed in and let it out.

“Donnie?” he said.

Donnie’s eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, is—are you Donnie? Is that your name?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Thor,” he said in a deep voice. “I’m Thor. Where—where am I? What is this place?”

Natasha was there. She knelt between them.

“Who are you?” she said slowly and clearly.

“Thor,” said Donnie. “Of the Aesir. And who are you?”

The lines of Natasha’s back relaxed. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Where am I, Natasha Romanoff?” said Thor. “Is this Midgard? If so, I need to get back to my planet. Asgard. Do you have some kind of—ship, or—“

“Where’s your planet?”

“It’s right—“ Thor looked up at the sky.

He looked down.

“It should be,” he said, pointing up, “right there…” His hand fell. “This isn’t Midgard. Natasha Romanoff, where am I?”

“We call this planet Earth,” said Natasha.

Thor blinked.

“Earth?” said Thor. “That’s…that’s millions of moments away.”

“I’m sorry,” said Natasha, “moments?”

“Oh, a moment, it’s an Asgardian expression of distance. Because it takes an Aesir a moment to fly from Asgard to Jotunheim, so we can…” He mimed a kind of Whack-A-Mole motion. “…smash those sons of bitches.”

At that moment, the hammer sparked with lightning. Natasha and Bruce jumped back.

The hammer spat out a hologram of a young man with long, straggly brown hair and an eyepatch.

“Father!” Thor yelled.

“Hang on,” Bruce began. Natasha silenced him with a look.

The hologram of Odin began to speak.

“Thor,” said Odin, “my dear boy. If you are seeing this, then some total idiot forced you to touch Mjolnir, destroying all the protective spells I cast to keep you on this unhappy planet—far away from your still more unhappy home. You are the favorite of all my children. Out of all of them, you were the most willing to do whatever I wanted you to without question, kill whoever, smash whatever, destroy whole races only because I tell you they’re evil. I really think you are a total idiot, but whatever. You’re obedient.”

“So kind, Father,” said Thor, tearing up.

“So I have sent you to this remote and miserable place so that you may stay safe for one hundred thousand years—until Loki starts to get bored—at which point, you will be my final line of defense. My son, if you are seeing this, Asgard has been destroyed. The Aesir and the Vanir have been trapped in the unbreakable roots of Yggdrasil. All by the man who swore to be forever my brother…Loki. God of mischief. Thor, if you are seeing this, Jotunheim has broken its bounds. Midgard is destroyed. The dwarves have fled. The Valkyries are all dead, probably, or maybe one of them will escape and become a drunkard scrapper. Your family needs you. I need you.”

“Your mother needs you,” said a voice off screen.

“Mother,” said Thor.

“Those two hostages we took from the Vanir, that we’ve all forgotten they’re hostages, you know, Frey and Freya, they need you too. The rest of the Vanir, they’ll be fine. Don’t worry about them. But in order to save us, you need to stay safe for us. If you’ve regained your powers a day too soon, which you have if you’re seeing this message, Loki is still on the hunt for you. You, his first and final enemy. And now that you have your powers, he will be able to sense you. He will come for you. So, my child, you have to run. Run away, keep running until Loki gets bored and you can come find us. If you’ve waited until the end of this message to start running…”

Odin shrugged.

“Well, then you’re doomed,” he said.

The hologram flickered and faded.

The three of them sat in the dark.

“If you come with us,” said Bruce, “we can protect you.”

Thor shook his head.

“Asgard destroyed,” he said. “My family trapped…the Valkyries dead…”

He shook his head again, more fiercely.

“My father wants me to run,” he said. “I will not run. If Loki wants to find me—“ He scrambled to his feet and craned his neck up to the sky. “He can find me HERE!”

“That’s really not a good idea,” said Bruce.

“I will fight Loki and beat him in single combat. Yes. I will destroy him with my mighty hammer, and then I will free my family from the terror he has inflicted on them!”

“Thor,” said Natasha, “could you find another planet, maybe, to—“

“No, no, let me handle this,” said Bruce.

“Bruce, no—“

“Thor,” said Bruce. “Um. Odin. Your father. He is…the mightiest of the gods. Of anybody. Am I right?”

“That’s true,” said Thor. 

Bruce placed his hands on Thor’s shoulders and watched him relax, watched confusion pass over Thor’s face as he wondered why he suddenly felt calm.

“And Loki bested Odin in single combat, right? Isn’t that right?”

“One can assume.”

“So if you challenge Loki to single combat, and you beat him,” said Bruce, “wouldn’t that be horribly disrespectful to your father?”

Thor stared.

“You’re right,” he said. “I would never wish to bring dishonor on Father.”

“Then let us help you,” said Bruce. He cleared his throat. “I—I am a mighty warrior. So is she. There are more of us. We’re a team called the Avengers. If we help you fight Loki, you won’t have bested him alone. And your father’s name will remain intact.”

Light dawned in Thor’s eyes.

“A brilliant plan,” he said. “Take me to your team.”

“Yeah—Bruce,” said Natasha behind him, “can I talk to you for a sec?”

Bruce turned. “What?”

Natasha pulled him out of earshot.

“If Loki comes here,” Natasha whispered, “he’s going to destroy everything.”

“We’ll stop him. That’s what we’re for. We’re the Avengers.”

“If the legends are true, Loki could easily be the most powerful being imaginable. Our job is to keep people like that away from Earth. Thor doesn’t care where he fights Loki, and he can fly. He could get off this planet—“

“Loki’s going to kill him.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I can’t let that happen,” said Bruce.

“Bruce,” said Natasha, “listen to me. That is not Donnie. Donnie never existed, or if he did, he’s gone. That is Thor, god of thunder—“ Bruce turned back to look at Thor. “No, no, look at me—“

Thor was weaving daisies together into a chain. Under his breath, he sang a song that went,  _ and then I cleaved his skull in two… _

“I’m sorry,” said Bruce. 

“Bruce, please—“

Bruce started walking. “Thor, c’mon.”

+++

“Tony?” said Clint. “Natasha wants you.”

“Can she come to me?” said Tony. “I’ve got the invalid.”

“Please stop calling me that,” said Steve.

“No can do, Old One.”

“I don’t think she wants Thor around him,” said Clint.

“Oh,” said Tony. "Shit. That worked?"

+++

Tony strode behind Clint, struggling to keep pace. The man walked fast.

“What about Barnes?” he said.

“Bucky’s just here for Steve, and Sam’s just here for Bucky. We’re not roping them into whatever this is.”

+++

“This,” said Bruce, “is Thor. God of thunder.”

Thor waved.

“Welcome, friend Barton, friend Stark,” he said. “I hear you will be my allies in the fight against Loki.”

Clint and Tony caught eyes.

“What the hell?” said Clint.

Thor grinned. “Hopefully I will get to meet the children of your planet before the final battle!”

“There are paparazzi outside,” said Natasha. “He’s already agreed to visit three elementary schools. And they got a quote from him saying that monarchy is the best form of government and that life is meaningless without war.”

“Oh,” said Tony. “Oh, fuck.”

+++

Tony got a call at 3 o’clock in the morning. Cursing, he fumbled for the phone to turn it on silent before it woke Steve up.

“Wazzat?” said Steve blearily.

“Nothing,” said Tony. “Nothing important. Go back to sleep.”

He kissed Steve’s forehead. Steve made a happy, tired noise.

“Sweet dreams,” said Tony, and slipped out, closing the door behind him.

+++

Alone in the hallway, he checked the caller ID. Pepper. Shit.

He picked up.

“Hey, Pep—“

“Explain,” said Pepper.

Tony winced.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said.

“You have a man who claims to be a Norse god talking to the press about how there’s going to be a battle tomorrow.”

“See,” said Tony, “I told you it wasn’t what it looked like. He really is a Norse god. And he’s going to visit some kids. That should calm people down—“

“Tony—“

“I’ll script him,” said Tony. 

“He won’t stay on script.”

“I’ll stand behind him with a cattle prod to keep him on script. Pep, I have this handled.”

“What about the battle?”

Tony sighed.

“Don’t tell me that’s real,” said Pepper.

“Apparently, Loki, the god of mischief, is going to attack New York tomorrow. Our job is to keep him contained so he doesn’t hurt anybody.”

“Tony,” said Pepper. She exhaled noisily through her nose. “This Avengers thing. How likely is it that you’ll end up killed?”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“Keeping the world safe,” said Tony. “Haven’t done much of that yet. Mostly we’ve been making things worse.”

“I heard about Captain America,” said Pepper quietly. “None of the details. But I heard he was tortured.”

“Yeah,” said Tony.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Maybe,” said Tony. “We hope.”

He hesitated.

“I mean, I for one can attest that he’s totally mentally unstable.”

“Why are you saying that in that tone?” said Pepper. “Tony, what did you do?”

“Nothing,” said Tony.

“Really.”

“I’m not using any tone,” said Tony.

“You are.”

“No.”

“It’s smug,” said Pepper.

“I didn’t do anything,” said Tony. “He—he told me he liked me, and we kissed. That’s all.”

“Tony,” said Pepper.

“And that tone is judgemental.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why is it judgemental? What is wrong with—“

“I think I have every right to be judgemental.”

“There is nothing to judge,” said Tony.

“Do you seriously not see what’s wrong with this picture? Tony—“ Pepper sighed. “Steve Rogers is not in his right mind.”

“He’s sane enough,” said Tony.

“That’s your opinion.”

“What, you think I’m taking advantage of him?”

“I don’t—“

“He brought it up all on his own, he initiated—“

“Tony—“

“—if he changes his mind later on that’s his prerogative.”

“You barely know each other. Are you sure he isn’t—“

“This has nothing to do with my dad, Pepper. He likes me for me.”

“I wasn’t going to bring up Howard.”

“Oh, so you’re going to cross every single other line, but you weren’t going to bring up Howard—“

“Tony, listen to me,” said Pepper. “I could give you reason after reason why this is a terrible idea, but I’m not going to, because you already know them. You’re defensive because you know I’m right.”

“I—“

“Not finished. I have one reason you haven’t thought of.”

“Oh, really?”

“I do.”

“What’s that?”

“Right now, Steve Rogers is America’s sweetheart,” said Pepper. “Look at the Internet. Ask JARVIS to look at the Internet for you. He’s trending, there are gifs of his unconscious, beaten up body all over Twitter—“

“What’s the point?”

“If you break his heart,” said Pepper, “half of America is going to boycott Stark Industries. As your CEO, I cannot in good conscience let you date him.”

“I’m not going to break his heart,” said Tony.

Pepper laughed. “That’s what you always say.”

“Pep—“

“Deal with it, Tony.”

_ Click. _

+++

Tony wandered back into Steve’s hospital room. He smoothed back Steve’s hair, and stood there staring down at Steve, sleeping. Peaceful. Eyes closed. 

Steve let out a snore, and Tony smiled.

He sat by the bed and set the phone on the bedside table. He twiddled his thumbs.

After several minutes, he stopped twiddling and stood up.

“No,” he said.

He picked up the phone and went outside.

+++

“Tony, it’s 3:30 in the morning.”

“You can talk. Pep, I’m not going to break up with him.”

“I wasn’t asking,” said Pepper.

“I want you to change the name of the company to Potts Industries.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Pretend we fought.”

“Tony, it’s your company,” said Pepper.

“No, it’s not. It’s yours. I’ll keep sending you prototypes and tech, but we’ll keep it on the down low, I can be an independent contractor. Keep my name separate from the company.”

“Tony…”

“This is really important to me,” said Tony.

Pepper hesitated.

“Meet me in the middle,” she said.

“Pronto.”

+++

Stark Tower and Pepper’s apartment were on opposite sides of New York City. In the middle was a 24-hour sushi place.

It was 4:00 am when Tony entered. Pepper was already tucked away in one of the booths with a plate of California rolls.

“Curse you,” said Tony. “You know I love those.”

“I saved you half.” She pushed the plate towards him.

“You are a goddess among women.”

“You can’t make that joke anymore.”

“I guess you’re right.” He crammed two California rolls into his mouth and chewed. “Damn.”

Pepper folded her hands.

“So,” said Pepper, “Steve.”

She knew the exact amount of time it took him to finish chewing and swallowing two California rolls. She really knew him better than anyone.

“I really like him, Pep,” said Tony.

She nodded. “I know you do.”

“I think he likes me too.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“And I know I can be—“ He reached for another roll. “—difficult, I know I can—“

“Tony,” said Pepper firmly, “I have a list of things that are wrong with you kissing Steve. You being hard to love is not on it. You being hard to be with is not on it. I think you’re very easy to love. I think you love hard, and deeply, and you’re generous, and kind, and forgiving, and loyal. I think Steve is lucky to have you.”

Tony drew back.

“Oh,” said Tony. “What’s…what’s on the list?”

She rifled through her purse, took it out and handed it to him. It was a little slip of paper, like a grocery list. Tony looked it over. He gnawed absently on his thumbnail.

He set it down on the table.

“Yeah,” he said. “These are good reasons.”

Pepper eyed him. “But.”

He met her eyes. “But I like him,” he said.

Pepper nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “You have my blessing.”

Tony let out a breath.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You can go home now.”

“Not without the rest of these California rolls.” Tony stuffed another two into his cheeks. “I still think you should change the name,” he said around them.

“Not going to change the name.”

“If it goes wrong—“

“Stark Industries will be behind you,” said Pepper, “one hundred percent.”

Tony chewed. He swallowed. He blinked back the water in his eyes.

“Thanks, Pep,” he said.

+++

Clint dropped down from a vent into the training room. Thor was already there, in Donnie’s ratty Arcturus T-shirt and blue jeans.

“Can’t sleep?” said Clint.

Thor flung his hammer at a flying dummy, which crashed to the ground with a squeal.

“Aesir don’t require sleep the way people do on Midgard—or here,” he said. “But if I were a sleeping creature, I would be most agitated now.”

Thor’s hammer came rocketing back through the punching bag, ripping a hole so that sand poured out.

“Careful,” said Clint. “Steve’s going to want his punching bags once he’s back on his feet. And he hates costing Tony money.”

“Apologies,” said Thor.

“Eh, it’s fine.”

Clint lifted his bow off of the wall, tossed it up in the air, and caught it again.

“This Loki guy,” he said, “what’s his deal?”

“He and my father are blood brothers,” said Thor. “Sworn to be allies for all eternity. My father’s blood runs in Loki’s veins. For centuries, he lived among the Aesir as one of us.”

“You say that like he isn’t.”

“Loki is of the jotun. He was born with miraculous shape-shifting abilities that allowed him to win the favor of my father.”

Clint sat on the ground, curling his legs up to his chest. “What does that mean?”

“He assumed a pleasing shape,” said Thor, throwing the hammer again. “And so Odin took him into Asgard.”

“Oh,” said Clint. “Huh. That’s…kind of gay.”

“Loki is neither a man nor a woman,” said Thor. He caught his hammer. “Although my father prefers for us to refer to him in the male sense, as that is the sense in which Loki pleasures him.”

“Ew.”

“His relationship with my father is…more of equals than any relationship between my father and his wives—except for maybe that with my mother, Frigga—and it is not made official by vows and rites and public acknowledgement. But otherwise it is no different from marriage.” 

“So Loki is your dad’s boy toy.”

Thor paused mid-throw. “I am not familiar with the phrase.”

“Fuckbuddy.”

Thor blinked.

“That is,” he said, “a way of putting it. Not the…least traitorous one, or—”

“You have to be nice to your dad, I get it. No worries. But between you and me, he sounds like a dick.”

“He is,” said Thor. “Very manly.”

Clint chuckled.

“You’re weird,” he said.

Thor spun the hammer with a flick of his wrist.

“Loki’s bond with my father has always given him immunity,” he said. “No matter what wrongs he committed, none of us could say a word against him, or they would be thrown out of Asgard in disgrace. And he has committed many wrongs. Odin’s blood he may have, but his heart is that of a jotun. Made of ice, and malice, and treachery.”

“Bet he’s good at gambling.”

“Oh, the best.” 

Thor hesitated. 

“I will admit,” he said, “although I was always the quickest to punish or threaten Loki after one of his bouts of mischief, I have always liked him, loved him even, as an uncle and a dear friend. But Loki has been…strange, of late. After my father broke his word, and took Loki’s monstrous brood captive, Loki became distant and cruel, less quick to laugh—and he kept to himself more and more—”

“Hang on,” said Clint, “his brood? What does that mean?”

Thor sighed heavily. He walked over and sat next to Clint, placing the hammer between them. When he set the hammer down, a vibration washed through the room. Clint shivered.

“His children,” he said. “The three Loki had kept. Sleipnir, of course, had already become Odin’s mighty steed. But Fenrir, who took the form of a wolf—Hela, the hag, half living and half dead—and the Midgard serpent, Jormungand—“

“Wait,” said Clint. “Wait.”

“Monsters, all of them.”

“Odin took Loki’s kids?”

“He had no choice,” said Thor. “They threatened the safety of all of Asgard.”

“What about Sleipnir?” said Clint. “The one who became—“

“Odin’s mighty steed, the eight-legged—“

“Yeah, whatever. He’s Loki’s kid too?”

“Loki transformed into a beautiful female horse that lured away—“

“I’ll take that as a yes. Was Sleipnir dangerous?”

Thor looked taken aback.

“Not—not strictly, no,” he said.

“Did Sleipnir want to be Odin’s mighty steed?”

“He was a newborn, hardly fit to—“

“Did Loki give his permission?”

“Loki had caused the whole mess,” said Thor. “My father forgave him, taking Sleipnir as—“

“Your dad enslaved his boyfriend’s kid?”

Clint rubbed a hand over his mouth.

“That is so messed up,” he said. “God. That is—that is so messed up.”

“My father is an honorable—”

“On Earth it’s different,” said Clint. “I’m sure things like—that…are tolerable on Asgard. Maybe even normal. But here? If you take someone’s kid, they will hunt you to the ends of the Earth—or, galaxy, or whatever. They will stop at nothing until they destroy you. And most of the time? They’re completely justified. You don’t touch someone’s kids.”

Thor frowned.

“It’s like that on Asgard too,” he said. “Family is…everything. But Odin is the king. And perhaps he doesn’t understand. He has so many children…”

Thor’s eyes widened.

“I’ve just committed sacrilege,” he said.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” said Clint.

Thor barked an uncertain laugh.

“How did a lonely man like you learn so much about family?” said Thor. “If you don’t mind.”

“Well, that’s incredibly insulting, but true, so.” Clint shrugged. “I joined an organization a long time ago, and I met people there who became like family to me. I never had any real family before that. But…Natasha…”

“Natasha Romanoff?”

“Yeah, she’s, like, the most stabby sister ever, I love her so much. And Phil. Coulson. My…my everything.”

“Your—” Thor’s nose wrinkled. “—fuckbuddy?”

“No, no. Well, I mean. Kinda. But also, I’m totally sappily in love with him, it’s disgusting.”

Thor frowned.

“Why is it disgusting?”

“You know.” Clint pulled a face. “Romance.”

“On Asgard, we worship romance in a festival of color.”

“We have a holiday too, I guess. I think—I think most humans like romance. But I’m used to Nat, who’s, you know, not into that at all. So I think there’s a part of me that still thinks Phil has cooties. But. Anyway.” Clint slumped. “He’s gone right now.”

“Gone where?” said Thor.

“Who knows. The—the organization—he got in trouble because of me. Trying to protect me. He had to go on the run. I haven’t heard from him.”

Thor bowed his head.

“Friend Barton,” he said, “my gratitude to you is so great that I will swear you this oath. By my honor, I shall ensure that the object of your adoration, your fuckbuddy, returns to you. Or I shall die in the attempt.”

“Wow,” said Clint. “Geez. Thanks, I—I guess? You really don’t have to—”

“An Aesir’s word is his most prized possession,” said Thor. “I surrender mine to you.”

Clint stared.

“Wow,” said Clint. “You’re really weird.”


	14. banner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: swearing! Thor! Gore! References to amnesia, bad Google translate Russian. Blackmail, references to past brainwashing, references to crimes committed while under the influence of brainwashing.**

“Now,” said Tony, “remember. Say nothing.”

“Nothing,” said Thor.

“No—I mean—” Tony glanced at the crowd roaring outside Stark Tower, waving signs that said  _ We Want Thor _ and  _ Let the God Speak. _ “God, it’s six thirty, they should not be awake yet. I shouldn’t be awake yet.” He turned back to Thor. “No matter what they ask you, don’t say anything. Say nothing. Be silent.” He mimed zipping his lips. “Please.”

“You zipped your lips and then you spoke through them.”

“I was talking to you. You need to zip your lips.”

“And then speak through them?”

“No,” said Tony. “No. Do not do that. No speaking. You got it? You got that?”

“Of course,” said Thor.

“All right.” He sighed. “JARVIS, open the door.”

The Avengers stood, blinking, in the morning sun. The crowd cheered.

“HELLO, FRIENDS!” said Thor. “How fare you? ‘Tis I, Thor of the Aesir, son of Odin, god of thunder—”

The crowd cheered louder.

“Okay,” said Tony, “everybody start pushing. We’re going to shove him through. Hands on his back, all together now—”

+++

Dag Hammarskjold was a public school in Brooklyn. Thor had agreed to visit because of the delightful name. 

“Remember,” said Tony resignedly, “stay on script. What’s your script? Tell me your script again.”

“Hello, children. I am Thor of the—”

“Just Thor,” said Tony. “Leave it at that. Thor.”

“And I’m here to remind you that drugs are bad.”

“Good. That’s good. And if they ask questions?”

“Say no comment.”

“Tony, really?” said Clint behind him.

“It was the most he could remember,” said Tony. “Better to say nothing interesting than literally anything else that might come out of his mouth.”

+++

The students of Mr. Hank McCoy’s second grade class were sitting in neat rows on a mat made of checkered squares.

“HELLO, FRIENDS!” said Thor. “TIS I, THOR OF—“

Tony kicked him in the shin.

“OW,” said Thor. “I MEAN. JUST THOR.”

The children stared at him suspiciously.

“I’m here to remind you that drugs are bad,” said Thor. He hung his head. “And stuff.”

“Very good,” said the teacher. “Class, do you have any questions for Mr. Thor?”

Silence.

“I have a question for Mr. Thor,” said Mr. McCoy. “Mr. Thor, could you tell us more about what exactly drugs do to the brain?”

“Ah, yes,” said Thor. “Of course.”

He had a strange look on his face. The children leaned forward despite themselves.

The whole room held its breath.

“I don’t even know what drugs are,” Thor burst out. “Now, listen here, kids.” He darted past Tony, under Mr. McCoy’s outstretched arm, and plopped down cross-legged in front of the mat. “To succeed in life, all you need is a weapon. It has to have the right balance, good destructive power, a long history of bloodshed—”

“Mr. Thor,” said Mr. McCoy, “really—”

“And a lot of magic.”

The children’s eyes glowed.

“Mr. Thor—”

“Now, the weapon is to defend your dear beloved, or as they call it here on Earth, your—”

“Oh, God,” said Clint.

+++

They stood in the parking lot in a line, Thor in the middle. Tony strode up and down, glaring at each of them in turn.

“Which one of you nincompoops,” he said, “taught Thor the word ‘fuckbuddy’?”

“I think he’s been talking too much to JARVIS,” said Natasha.

Tony exploded. “Now, that is—JARVIS is a—how dare you suggest—I mean, I’ve never—”

Natasha smiled at Clint when Tony was looking the other way. 

_ Thank you, _ Clint signed.

+++

“Repeat after me. I will not say fuckbuddy.”

“I will not say fuckbuddy,” said Thor.

“In any context.”

“In any context.”

“Under any circumstances.”

“Under any circumstances.”

+++

“HELLO, FUCKBUDDIES!”

The children erupted into chaos. Thor froze.

“Whoops,” he said. “Can I try again?”

+++

Tony had to sit in the car to cool down. Natasha and Clint joined him when it became clear neither of them was going to stop laughing anytime soon.

+++

“Okay,” said Bruce. “So the F word is not appropriate for children.”

“I didn’t mean to say fu—“

“I know you didn’t,” said Bruce.

“All I want is to talk to the children and tell them about weaponry and how to win a lover.”

“Yeah, well,” said Bruce, “you can’t. I—“

He paused.

“Wait a second,” he said.

+++

“Kids,” said Bruce, “this is the Mighty Thor. He’s here to teach you about the kind of weird gods that people believed in at the time of the Vikings.”

“And I will not say—“ Thor began joyfully.

“FUDGE,” Bruce yelled. “He will not say FUDGE. Because FUDGE didn’t exist back then. Isn’t that right, Thor?”

Thor blinked.

“No,” he said, “we didn’t eat…fudge. I don’t know why…”

He turned to the gaggle of expectant fifth graders.

“When I was a young lad,” he said, “not even through my first century, my mother would feed me a whole deer for breakfast, and if I didn’t eat all of it, she would make the rest of the carcass dance around me all day…”

The kids’ faces lit up.

+++

“And by that point, of course, he was only a head, and I mashed his brains so they would stop turning into killer frogs, and then I wore his skull as a cap.”

Thor leaned back, satisfied.

“Any questions?” he said.

“Mr. Thor! Mr. Thor! Mr. Thor!”

Thor pointed to a girl in the front. “Yes?”

“If you wanted to split open someone who was threatening your lover, would you start at the bottom or the top?”

“A wonderful question. Of course, one must consider—“

“And would you look at that, we’re out of time,” said Bruce.

“ARE THE BRAINS OR THE REPRODUCTIVE PARTS OF THE ENEMY MORE IMPORTANT TO THEIR QUALITY OF LIFE,” Thor bellowed as Bruce dragged him off. 

The class applauded.

+++

“That was wondrous—the way they laughed when I told them how I exploded that man’s guts—”

The sun was setting in bright reds and oranges over the parking lot. Bruce hauled Thor across the concrete.

“Banner,” said Thor. “Banner. Stop dragging me for a second, I need to tell you something.”

Bruce stopped walking. 

“Yeah?” he said.

“I’m going to say something serious now,” said Thor. “I wanted to give you a warning, because I was so hilarious back there—“

“Sure, whatever.”

“I have something brave and heroic to say, and I need to say it now, and you’re the only one who’s here, so I’m going to say it to you.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

Thor took a deep breath.

He placed his hands on Bruce’s shoulders.

He looked Bruce in the eyes and began to talk very fast.

“Loki is coming, I can sense him, he’s moments away, and I need to be gone before he arrives—“

“What?”

“—so I’m going to say this faster than anything I’ve ever said in my whole life. I’m not going to fight Loki here. There are—“

“You’re not?”

“No. Today I realized, there are children here, and their parents aren’t, you know, gods. So they can’t destroy planets to protect their families, and they can’t possibly hope to fend off Loki, even though they would if they could—so I have to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fight Loki alone. Win. Rescue my family, whether they like it or not.”

“You’ll die.”

“No, I won’t. I’m a god. Also, I’m amazing. Tell your team thank you—“

Bruce pecked him on the lips.

Thor stopped short. His blue eyes asked a question.

“I’ll explain it when you come back,” said Bruce.

“You swear,” said Thor.

“Only if you do.”

Thor nodded. One hand reached up to cup Bruce’s cheek.

“On my honor,” he said.

He stepped back.

He let the hammer pull him into the sky.

Bruce watched him disappear.

+++

Natasha’s plant room was already well-stocked with cactuses, poinsettias, and snake plants, and in the past few days Clint had gotten creative—lily of the valley, catmint, and pansies. Bruce liked to hide out there in the middle of the night, when moonlight played over the leaves. The lab was lonely at that time. He could have gone down to the gym, where the Avengers tended to end up at unreasonable hours. But then he would have had to talk to other humans.

Bruce turned the handle of the glass greenhouse room noiselessly and eased the door open.

“Looking for something?” said Natasha.

Bruce froze.

There was an interrogation desk. That was new. It sat in the middle of the room, a place of honor, and Natasha had her feet propped up on it.

“Kidding,” she said. “I knew you’d come.”

“Uh,” said Bruce.

“Sit down,” said Natasha, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the table.

Bruce sat.

“Let’s chat.”

“Um. I can—I can go,” said Bruce. “We don’t need to—”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” said Natasha. “For a little while now.”

She watched him for a reaction. Bruce shifted.

“Uh, about what?”

“Well, what do you think I would want to talk to you about?” said Natasha.

“I don’t know. Um…”

A smile played on Natasha’s lips, as though she were watching a mouse run through a maze, going the wrong way.

“Thor,” said Bruce. “Right?”

“Right. Thor.”

“I mean, it worked out.”

“It did.” She kept smiling. “You know, Bruce, you’re really lucky that it did. I would ask you why, but you already know, don’t you? You can imagine, I’m sure, how…unhappy…I would have been if you had actually бросить на съедение волкам—“  _ Thrown to the wolves.  _ “—the entire planet for the sake of a three hundred year old man-baby alien with powers none of us can dream of or comprehend. I would have been…” She smiled wider, teeth sharp. “Very unhappy.”

Bruce swallowed.

“But clearly, you had another plan all along.” She took her feet off of the table in a swift, clean motion and leaned forward. “Didn’t you, Bruce? You planned this whole thing. You would never have actually made that decision, because if you had, you would no longer be a part of this team.”

“Natasha, I—“

“Do you understand me?” she said, biting off every word.

“I’m not a superhero,” said Bruce.

Natasha settled back in her chair, examining her fingernails. 

“Then why are you here?” she said.

+++

“So I’ve been thinking about your anger management problem,” said Tony over breakfast. “I have a couple of ideas.”

Bruce pushed his potatoes from side to side. “Yeah?”

“I install a new feature in my next suit. A net. Giant mesh made of—little strands of steel, chained together, woven together—“

“Like chain mail.”

“Right. But a net. It’d be flexible—“

“You’re going to make one that big?”

“The idea for that one is to stop you from transforming,” said Tony. “So I’d fire it—“ He mimed firing from his wrist. “Pew! And it would wrap around you, and keep you same size.”

Bruce shook his head. 

“I’d bust right through it,” he said.

“Maybe. Or maybe—“

“No, I would. No net’s going to stop me from changing.”

“Okay.” Tony drew a line through a page of his notebook. “Idea numero dos. How much horse tranquilizer did you say it takes to get the big guy down?”

“10 gallons.”

“Okay. Okay. So what if we condense that? Into a super-tranquilizer. A mega-horse-tranquilizer.”

“How’s that getting in my system?”

“Clint.”

Bruce frowned. “Shot from a distance, it’ll bounce off my skin.”

“It won’t be from a distance.”

“How will it not be—“

Tony showed him the notebook. A stick figure Clint clung to the back of a big blob labeled HULK.

“He’ll climb you,” said Tony, making a doggy-paddle motion, “like a tree.”

“He’ll die.”

“Maybe. Or maybe—“

“He will,” said Bruce. “He definitely will.”

“He’s aware of the risks. He wants to give it a try.”

“Have you met the Hulk?” said Bruce.

“Haven’t had the pleasure,” said Tony.

“Clint,” said Bruce, “have you met the Hulk?”

“No,” said Clint, rolling up a pancake, “but I’ve survived Phil when he hasn’t had breakfast, so I’d say—“

“Then you can’t possibly understand what you’re up against,” said Bruce.

Clint and Tony caught eyes across the table.

“Maybe,” said Tony. “Or maybe…we can.”

“What?” said Bruce.

“See, Doc, I was thinking last night,” said Tony. “You know what you do with a weapon when you want to know if it works? You test it. I know, ‘cause I used to make them. I can talk to Pepper and get you access to the finest barren deserts this planet has to offer. Top notch.”

Bruce’s eyes went wide.

“Tony, no,” said Bruce.

“Maybe,” said Tony. “Or. Tony, yes.”

“I can’t ask any of you to—“

“I want to,” said Clint. “I’m excited. I volunteer as tribute.”

Natasha appeared from nowhere behind him and stole an entire egg off of his plate.

”I volunteer as backup,” she said.

“That’s not the quote,” said Clint. “Give me my egg back.”

She chewed it and swallowed. “There’s a quote?”

“Yeah, it’s a reference—“

Tony waggled his eyebrows at Bruce. Bruce sighed.

+++

After breakfast, Tony took half of his portion up to Steve and tried to coax him to throw potatoes at the TV screen whenever the Property Brothers made particularly questionable decorating choices.

+++

Natasha was getting a massage.

Bucky took a step.

“Barnes,” said Natasha. 

“Screw you,” said Bucky with no real heat. “I was being stealthy.”

“You have a recognizable tread. Give me five minutes.”

“Sure.”

+++

Natasha emerged from the massage parlor looking glamorous in a towel.

“What do you need?” she said.

“Have you checked your phone?”

Natasha frowned. “No. Why?”

“I think you might have gotten something.”

“Gotten what?”

He passed her his. She examined the text on the screen.

“Got this from Hill two minutes ago,” said Bucky. “I think she sent it to all of us.”

“Us?”

“Ex-HYDRA, ex-KGB…folks.”

Something like fear passed over Natasha’s face.

“The New SHIELD,” she said. “What’s that?”

“Hill shepherded everyone she could find. Everyone willing, and that’s just the fanatics. They’re more paranoid than ever, and they’re hell-bent on taking HYDRA down.”

“They want us to give them our services?”

“And we know what that means.”

“In exchange for—” Her nose wrinkled. “Discretion?”

“And we know what that means, too.”

“It’s a mistake,” said Natasha. She handed the phone back to him. “None of us are trustworthy.”

“Nobody’s trustworthy. But they can control us.”

“No, they can’t.”

“Natasha,” said Bucky, “they have everything I’ve ever done. You, too.”

Her face was grim. “I know.”

“There are things that people can’t know.”

“I know.”

“People—“ He glanced around him, leaned in, lowered his voice. “—here—“

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Natasha.

“What are you going to do?”

“Tell them I’ll think about it,” said Natasha. “Hold them off for now. For as long as I can. Make up excuses.”

Bucky nodded. “I’ll do that, too.”

“Soldier,” said Natasha. “Whatever you decide in the end…I’ll understand.”

“Thanks.”

“It won’t stop me from killing you if I have to. But I’ll feel kind of bad about it.”

“Right back at you,” said Bucky.

+++

“Surprise,” said Tony.

“Hi,” said Bucky.

Steve’s face was brittle.

“I don’t understand,” said Steve.

“When he sold you down the river, HYDRA gave him back his memories,” said Tony. “He helped us…get you back.”

Steve stared at Bucky like a stranger.

“Your mom’s name was Sarah,” said Bucky. “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

“You can do better than that,” said Steve.

“That was just off the top of my head.”

Steve’s mouth was a thin line. “C’mon. That’s pathetic.”

“You used to steal clothes and shit.”

“So did everybody.”

“Yeah, but you got away with it,” said Bucky. He took a step into the room. “I remember I hired you to steal Mary Laughlin’s homework so I could find it for her.”

“And then the teacher caught you with it,” said Steve.

“Miss Fischer. She was hot.”

Steve pulled a face. “She was, like, fifty.”

“We’re like, a hundred, and look at us. It’s not about age, it’s about how you wear it.”

Steve laughed, a little bit. Then his face hardened again.

“I saw you die,” he said.

“I died,” said Bucky simply. He stuck his hands in his pockets and took another step. “Then…they turned me into someone else.”

“The Winter Soldier. I met him.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. He’s still in there.” Bucky tapped his temple with a metal finger.

“I liked him,” said Steve. “Until he, you know.”

“I’m a mercenary,” said Bucky.

“Yeah.”

“And I wouldn’t have done it for anything less,” said Bucky. “If it helps.”

Steve considered.

“It actually kind of does,” said Steve.

“A little bit?”

“Yeah.”

“HYDRA’s the worst,” said Bucky. “Worst abductors, worst employers, worst everything. I swore off working with them when I got free, about ten years ago. HYDRA was the first that got me. That was before they developed the extraction. Then Russia stole me from them, and I was there for…twenty years? I was in and out of the machines every day. Memories kept coming back. Then HYDRA got me again and finished the job. Once I didn’t remember you anymore, I became way more valuable. Kept getting stolen. Back and forth, back and forth.”

“God,” said Steve.

Bucky pointed at him. “Lord’s name in vain.”

Steve crossed himself hastily.

“That sounds terrible,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I would’ve never wanted you to get a taste of it.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” said Steve. “I’m glad you’re here now. I…I…”

He trailed off.

“This is like when you see your childhood friend after college,” said Bucky. “Like, how’ve things been with you? Oh, rough? Oh, yeah, that’s rough—“

“We’ll figure it out,” said Steve. “We’ll bounce back.”

“We always do,” said Bucky.

“What was our—what was our name?”

“Oh, God, it was so—“

“Lord’s name in—“

“Shut up,” said Bucky. “We were the Bounce Boys.”

“Brothers. Bounce Brothers.”

“Why were we the Bounce Brothers?”

“‘Cause we had that whole feud,” said Steve, “you know, with the eraser—“

“Oh, you wouldn’t admit you—“

“You kept saying I stole it.”

“You totally stole it.”

“We were the talk of the school,” said Steve. “The big drama. And we apologized to each other—“

“Same time. Almost in unison.”

“And then you asked me to prom,” said Steve, smiling reminiscently.

“Right, we…I wanted to go with Marcy Williams—was it Williams?”

“Yeah, Williams, I think. Marcy’s right, anyway.”

“Yeah, but she said yes to that guy who kept beating you up, so I felt like I had a duty. We were fighting then, but I still felt like I had a duty.”

“Is it the right time to tell you I always had a crush on you?” said Steve.

“I know you did. Steve, everyone knew you did.”

“But you were straight.”

“Nah, not even slightly.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“I thought I was straight, ‘cause I figured if I liked a guy it would be you. Turns out, I just didn’t like you.”

“Rude,” said Steve. “You’re. That’s mean. You’re mean.”

“I mean, now I’m the idiot, cause you’re a solid ten once you add some muscle, clear up the, y’know, many illnesses.”

“Heart trouble…”

“Partial deafness.”

“Scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, chronic cold,” said Steve, ticking them off on his fingers.

“Yeah, those.”

“There’s more.”

Bucky laughed. “Somebody stop him, we’ll be here all day.”

Tony stirred.

“Yeah,” he said, “speaking of that, Steve, I gotta bounce.”

“What? Why?”

“Taking Bruce out Hulking. Should be back by dinner.”

“What?” said Steve. “Out—Tony, that’s a terrible idea—”

“Can’t hear you,” said Tony. “Talk to your friend—”

“No, I said—”

“You’re going to have to talk louder.” He blew a kiss.

“TONY, THAT’S A BAD—”

“Bye,” said Tony.


	15. the incredible hulk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: mild violence, swearing, loss of bodily autonomy, bad Google Translate Russian.**

“Welcome,” said Tony, “to the Nevada National Security Site.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Bruce.

“Pepper knows people.”

“Yeah, but the Department of Energy,” said Clint. “They’re a bunch of blowhards.”

Tony shrugged. “She’s used to me. Department of Energy is tame.” His suitcase began to click and expand into the Iron Man suit. “Well, Banner? What do you think?”

Bruce rolled his shoulders.

“It’s time to get angry,” he said.

“Everybody clear the path,” said Tony. The helmet closed over his head, and his voice became mechanical. “Everybody make way—”

Bruce closed his eyes. He strained so hard veins popped out in his neck. “Arghhhhh,” he said. “Arghhhhh.”

He stopped.

He cleared his throat.

“AHHH,” he said. 

He waited a few moments.

“Guys, it’s not working,” he said.

Tony’s helmet snapped up.

“Imagine me having sex with your mother,” he said.

Bruce’s nose wrinkled. “Ugh.” He closed his eyes again and raised his fists to the sky. “AHHHH—”

He dropped them. “Nope.”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” said Tony. “Really imagine it.”

“Imagine me having sex with your dad,” said Clint.

“Imagine me turning everyone you’ve ever cared about against you,” said Natasha.

“Yeah, guys, this really isn’t helping with the whole trust thing—”

“Bruce, hey,” said Natasha, “come over here—”

“What?”

“Yeah,” said Tony. “C’mere.”

“I have to stay far away in case—”

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening, so come over here,” said Tony.

Bruce took a few steps, looking confused.

“We have to tell you something,” said Tony. “It’s about your Christmas present this year—”

“I’m Jewish,” said Bruce.

“—Hanukkah presents this year,” said Tony. “C’mere.”

Bruce took a few more steps.

“C’mon.”

“Why are you talking to me about Hanukkah?”

“Those presents this year,” said Tony. “They’re not, they’re not happening.”

Bruce squinted. “What?”

“Yeah,” said Natasha, “I’m not getting you anything either.”

“Guys,” said Bruce, “that’s not going to make me angry.”

Tony touched his heart. “Aww, thanks for saying that.”

“No—” Bruce sighed. “—c’mon, guys, we need to think of something really—”

Clint jumped onto Bruce from behind and clung to him like a koala.

“HOLY SHIT,” Bruce screamed. “HOLY—HOLY SHIT—”

He twisted, trying to throw Clint off. He started to take deep breaths.

“No,” said Tony, “NO—NO DEEP BREATHS—”

“I’M SORRY,” Bruce yelled, “IT’S INSTINCT—two, three, four—”

“SHUT IT OFF,” said Tony.

“I CAN’T—”

Clint put a knife against Bruce’s neck.

“AHHH,” Bruce screeched, and then he relaxed.

“DON’T YOU DARE COPE ON ME, BANNER!” Clint bellowed in his ear. “DON’T YOU DARE—FUCKING—COPE—”

“I’M TRYING—”

“FEEL THE ANGER—”

“I’M FEELING IT—”

“FEEL IT!”

“RAHHHHH,” Bruce roared.

Then he stopped.

“Guys, this isn’t, this isn’t working,” he said. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Aw, c’mon,” said Clint, and slid back onto the ground.

“You’re too emotionally stable,” said Tony. “I’m starting to think this anger management problem is a non-problem.”

“Clint, get back here,” said Natasha. “I have a new plan.”

“I think we should go home,” said Bruce. “I don’t think this is going to happen.”

“Don’t be a negative Nellie,” said Tony.

Bruce frowned. “Negative—what?”

“It’s a thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, it is now,” said Tony. “I’m making it a thing.”

Clint rejoined them, out of breath.

“What’s the plan?” he said.

“Let’s huddle,” said Tony. “Strategize—“

Natasha shot Bruce in the head.

+++

They looked up. They looked higher. They looked higher.

“What the hell,” Tony breathed.

The Hulk was huge.

It roared.

“Scatter,” said Tony. “Everybody—everybody run—“

Clint set off.

The Hulk loped more than ran. It crashed across the ground, sending up chunks of rocks and clouds of dirt, lopsided, erratic. Its feet pounded the earth in a slow, frenzied, stumbling dance.

Its fist smashed down and left a small crater.

It covered about a hundred feet with every stride, and it was looking for Natasha. The big green head full of white teeth (Bruce had such good hygiene that it transferred to his alter ego, apparently) spun and craned and ducked low, looking.

Clint found a rock and leapt onto it. He waved his bow above his head.

“HEY!” he yelled. “BIG GUY! OVER HERE!”

He shot an arrow that seemed to impossibly predict the motion of the Hulk’s head—it dove right into the soft flesh of a crazed, green-tinted eyeball. The Hulk howled.

“TASTY CLINT MEAT! COME AND GET IT! BIG CLINT BURGER—”

The Hulk lunged.

“Okay,” said Clint. “You know what? I’ll meet you halfway.”

He started to run. Towards the Hulk.

“The man’s crazy,” said Tony over the commlinks.

“ сумасшедший ,” said Natasha affectionately.  _ Madman. _

The Hulk’s grasping hand swept across the ground. Clint vaulted onto it. His arms wrapped around the Hulk’s wrist and hung on tight.

The Hulk swung its arm in a wide arc, found that the strange annoying bee was still on it, and swung it again.

Clint let go with one arm to fumble in his backpack.

“NO,” Tony yelled involuntarily, but Clint had already found the triple-mega-super-horse-tranquilizer dart and was holding onto Hulk’s wrist with his legs, stabbing it into the green skin.

He stabbed again.

“Guys,” he said over the comms, “we have a problem.”

“What?” said Tony.

“It isn’t going through.” He stabbed again. “It isn’t—it isn’t going—“

The Hulk smacked its wrist on the ground. Clint fell and lay there, still and motionless.

“No,” said Tony. “No—“

Natasha was already running. Tony hurried to intervene.

“Natasha, no, you can’t—“

“Stay back,” said Natasha. Her voice was supremely calm.

“Natasha—“

“I need you to trust me,” she said.

The Hulk saw her. His uninjured eye narrowed. His mouth opened. He growled, and it shook the earth.

Natasha reached Clint’s body. She bent down and felt his pulse.

“Unconscious,” she said. “I’m going to lure the Hulk away. When the coast is clear, get him and take him to safety.”

Tony’s throat was dry. “Copy that.”

Natasha stood.

“Hey, big guy,” she said quietly.

The Hulk screamed.

“I know you’re scared. You don’t have to be scared. I’m a friend.”

She began to back away from Clint’s body.

The hand came down. Natasha dodged it effortlessly.

“I’m a friend,” she said again. “You know my voice, don’t you?”

The Hulk snarled.

“I’m going to trust you,” said Natasha. “I’m going to trust you not to hurt me. I know you can hear me.”

The Hulk’s gaping mouth opened wide.

_ “Banner,”  _ said the Hulk in a guttural rumble.

The hand swung, and Natasha ducked. It whistled over her head.

“I’m not talking to Banner,” said Natasha.

_ “Banner.” _

“I want to be your friend.”

She had moved the Hulk away from Clint now. Tony swooped in.

The Hulk’s head spun.

“He’s not going to hurt you,” said Natasha. “He’s trusting you, too. All we’re asking is that you not hurt us.”

_ “Hurt.” _

“We’re not going to hurt you.”

_ “Banner.” _

“Banner doesn’t trust us,” said Natasha.

The Hulk stared down at her.

“If you trust us,” said Natasha, “we’ll trust you.”

_ “Hulk…” _

The Hulk’s face furrowed in concentration.

_ “Hulk…not. Not mon—mons…ter…” _

“Yes, you are,” said Natasha.

The Hulk roared.  _ “Hulk—“ _

“You are right now,” said Natasha. “I’m not going to lie to you. You are. People like us start out monsters, we do. But if we find the right people—and we learn to trust them—“

_ “Hulk—“ _

“You don’t have to be a monster,” said Natasha. “You can be a hero. But if you want to be a hero, you need to act like one.”

The Hulk stopped. It blinked at her.

_ “How,”  _ it said, deep and low.

Natasha stretched out her hand.

“Trust me,” she said, “and we can do business together. We can be heroes together. We can be a team. We can be a family.”

The Hulk’s bloody eyes narrowed.

_ “Family,”  _ it rumbled.

Its pinky finger brushed her hand.

“I need you to give us Banner back,” said Natasha.

The Hulk recoiled.  _ “Banner—“ _

“If you give us Banner back,” said Natasha, “it’ll be a sign of trust. You’ll get control way more often. We will work with you.”

The Hulk let out an exhale that nearly blew Natasha over. It closed its eyes.

Then it was gone, and Bruce was naked on the ground.

He scrambled to sit. “Clint.”

“Clint will be fine,” said Natasha. “Unconscious. No bones broken, and I don’t think he has a brain to damage. Are you okay?”

Bruce scrubbed at his face. “Feels like something bit my eyeball.”

“That would be the arrow,” said Natasha. She knelt beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Let’s move.”

“How did you get me back?” said Bruce, staring at his hands.

“The Hulk and I reached an agreement,” said Natasha airily. “If you don’t step up your game, he’ll be my favorite. Now get up.”

+++

The Winter Soldier met her at the door of Stark Tower.

“I need to talk to you alone,” he said.

“Whatever you have to say to her—“ Tony began.

“Untwist your panties, Stark,” said Natasha. “And tell your butler not to listen in.”

Tony sighed.

“Copy that, Romanoff,” he said.

+++

They went into the plant room. Natasha sat on one side of the table, and Bucky sat on the other.

“SHIELD is making ultimatums,” said Bucky.

“I saw.”

“They want an answer.”

“I’ve given them one.”

“So did I.”

They stared across the table at each other.

“Let’s say it on three,” said Bucky.

Natasha nodded.

“One.”

“Раз.”

“Two.”

“Два.”

“Three.”

“Три.”

“I told them no,” said Natasha.

“I told them yes,” said Bucky.

They both looked away.

Silence reigned in the room.

“I’ll miss you,” said Natasha.

“Good luck,” said Bucky. 

He stood.

“Give Steve my best," he said.

"Give it to him yourself," said Natasha.

"Nah," said Bucky. "I'll." He took a step back. "Tell him I'll see him later."

+++

Natasha scrolled through her phone. Her face was plastered all over the news.

_ Assassin of the Avengers?  _

_ ‘We Don’t Want Her Near Our Children’—Mayor Fisk Reacts to Black Widow Revelations _

_ Slutty Mary: Murderous Femme Fatale Tries to Hide _

_ Is Black Widow Trying to Kill Captain America? _

She contemplated crying, but ultimately decided against it.

  
  



	16. date

“So,” said Bruce, “your legs are completely healed.”

Steve stared.

“Have you been doing your rehab exercises?”

“Yeah.”

“Tony, has he been doing his rehab exercises?”

“He has,” said Tony.

“Then you should be able to walk now. Maybe in a couple of days, you’ll be back training.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “That’s great.”

Tony shot him a look.

“That’s great news, Doc,” he said. “We’ll try today.”

“Do you want me to—”

“I think we’re good.”

+++

“What’s up?” said Tony.

“I can walk,” said Steve. “I can get back training. It’s great news.”

“Cap,” said Tony. “Steve.”

“What?”

“Icicle, oh, icicle—Ancient One—”

“Tony—”

“Captain of my heart—”

“Stop it.”

“You’re a good liar,” said Tony. “I’ll give you that.”

Steve’s face fell.

“But I invented being ‘happy’ about ‘good news.’ Tell me what’s going on.”

“Tony,” said Steve, “oh, uh, Iron One—”

“Weak.”

“Rich…guy…God, I’m bad at this—”

“I’m funny enough for both of us, no worries.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“I want you to tell me,” said Tony. “I want to know.”

“You’re going to hate it,” said Steve.

“I like you,” said Tony. “I like your thoughts, I like your feelings. I like the way you look like a 100-year-old war vet when you lie. Whatever this is—”

“You’re not going to like this.”

Tony folded his arms. “Try me.”

“I think I’m a pacifist,” said Steve.

Tony was very still for several long moments.

He unfolded his arms.

“Well,” he said. “That’s. That’s not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I was expecting you weren’t going to let me pay for dinner.”

“Oh,” said Steve, “I thought that was already settled. I’m taking you out. I pay.”

Tony sighed a long-suffering sigh.

“Look, Steve,” he said, “I’m…I’m Iron Man. I’m not going to stop being Iron Man.”

“I know. I’m not going to stop you.”

“No guilting.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Think of the children,” he deadpanned.

Tony grinned. “Funny. That was funny.” He stood and started to pace. “I mean, fuck, Steve, I don’t care. If you decided to be a stand up comedian tomorrow, I would be in the front row, dead center of every show, whooping and hollering and saying all the punchlines with you.”

“You mean you’d be a horrible audience member?”

“I am. You should know that. As long as you don’t care about me, I don’t care about you. Whatever makes you happy.”

Steve smiled a real smile.

“I want to kiss you,” he said.

“You’ll have to come over here,” said Tony, backing up. “Mr. Man with Working Legs.”

He grimaced.

“That was bad, wasn’t it?”

“It was really bad,” said Steve.

+++

“I don’t know about this,” said Tony. “I’m not sure. JARVIS, I’m not sure about this. Could you read me the—”

“Dear Future Me,” said JARVIS, sounding tired, “you are an idiot, and you like Steve, so you should go on the stupid date and stop worrying about it.” He paused. “After this, you said you weren’t sure and that actually you should probably tell Steve it’s not a good idea. Then you told Captain Rogers that it was a bad idea, and he said that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. Then you came back and kept getting ready.”

“Right, okay.” Tony straightened his tie. “You’re sure this one is better than the other one?”

“According to the tie attractiveness calculator you invented last night instead of sleeping, this tie is indeed more attractive than the hundreds of others you have tried.”

“When did I give you snark, JARVIS?”

“You gave me the ability to talk, sir, and I use it to tell you facts, which you interpret as impolite. Presumably no one else in your life tells you facts, or you think everyone in your life is impolite. I’ll leave it to you to decide which.”

“Both,” said Tony. “I’m surrounded by liars and haters.”

“Of course, sir.”

+++

Steve was wearing a suit. It was too big on him. He hadn’t gone to Tony’s tailor.

Tony’s heart thumped loud.

“Hi, beautiful,” said Tony.

Steve laughed. His eyes were so blue.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” he said.

“I clean up okay. Where are we going?”

“Natasha recommended a place,” said Steve. “I don’t know…what that means. It could either be great or terrible. But she said it’s nice.”

“What does it serve?”

“Something called shawarma?”

+++

“Just get in the car,” Tony murmured. “Keep walking. Walk fast. Don’t look back.”

“God,” said Steve. “They’re everywhere.”

“Yeah, well, Pepper says the press love us, or at least they love you—”

“GET BACK IN THE ICE,” yelled a man. Another waved a sign in Steve’s face that read NOT OUR CAPTAIN, and a woman who looked about twenty was trying to start a chant of MURDERERS.

“Yeah, they really love us,” said Steve.

“Shh,” said Tony. “Don’t listen. Don’t look.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. Let’s get in the car.”

+++

The shawarma place was about two blocks away. The press was following them. Steve watched them on the sidewalk.

“You want me to try to lose ‘em, boss?” said Happy.

“Thanks, but they’ll find us eventually anyway,” said Tony. “I don’t want them to think we have anything to be ashamed of.”

A poster bobbed along that read EAT THE RICH, with a little doodle of Tony’s head on a platter.

“Huh,” said Steve.

“Democracy at work, right, Cap?”

“Yeah,” said Steve. “This is what we want. People…people talking. People weighing in.”

Tony smiled fondly at him.

“I’m serious,” said Steve.

“I know you are. I agree.”

The MURDERERS chant was catching on.

“We haven’t killed anybody,” said Tony. “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Well, I’ve killed people,” said Steve.

“You were a soldier. What, are they going to round up everybody who’s ever served and call them all murderers?”

“No.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“They liked us,” said Steve. “Am I crazy? They did like us.”

“They did,” said Tony. “We were trending. But public opinion changes fast. It’s the name of the game.”

“You’ve dealt with this before?” said Steve.

Tony laughed warmly.

“Genius billionaire playboy alcoholic, Rogers,” he said.

+++

Steve stared at the food.

He took a small bite of meat.

“What’s wrong with you?” said Tony. “Eat.”

Steve chewed and swallowed. The flavor exploded on his tongue.

He frowned. He stared at the food some more.

He took another bite of meat, even smaller this time.

He chewed and swallowed and tried to hide a grimace.

“What is it, Rogers?”

“Nothing.”

Tony lowered his sunglasses to level Steve a glare.

“Tell,” he said.

Steve sighed. He tried another bite of meat, a miniscule thread.

“I don’t…I don’t like it,” he said.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up.

“You,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Steve Rogers.”

“That’s my name.”

“Are a picky eater.”

“I mean, I don’t know,” said Steve. “I’ve never had anything like this before.”

“Well, what do you like?”

“It doesn’t matter what you like, it matters what’s available,” said Steve automatically. 

He looked down. 

“It’s just that this isn’t…what was available,” he said. “I mean, the only thing I’ve ever tasted food like this is one time this dame canceled on Bucky for a date and he took me out to this really fancy Indian place, and the food was really spicy but I ate a lot of it, because you only get these chances once, and they kept bringing more, and I.” He avoided Tony’s eyes. “I vomited for days.”

“You have a delicate constitution,” said Tony. “Made for meat and potatoes.”

“I mean, looking back, Bucky totally lied when he said it was an all-you-can-eat buffet,” said Steve. He picked off another shred of meat, ate it, and pulled a face. “He was paying for the whole thing. But I thought I was helping him, y’know, get the most bang for his buck.”

Tony grinned. Steve sighed.

“Don’t say it,” said Steve.

“Get the most bang for his Buck- _ y—” _

Steve threw his napkin on the table. “I’m leaving.”

“No, don’t go, it’s an all you can eat buffet,” said Tony.

Steve snorted. 

“That doesn’t work when I’m paying for it,” he said.

“Eh, worth a try.” Tony shifted in his seat. “So do you want to go somewhere else?”

“I don’t know,” said Steve. “I mean, this is a bit of a. Stunning defeat. I’ve never not been able to eat something.”

“Well, do you want to eat it?”

Steve looked down at his plate.

“Kind of,” he said.

+++

“I love it,” said Steve.

“Bring this man all the shawarma you have,” said Tony.

+++

“Wow, they have a lot of shawarma.”

“It’s a shawarma place, Tony,” said Steve. “What did you expect?”

+++

“Are you unhinging your jaw?”

“Shut up,” said Steve.

+++

Steve vomited in the stall of a public bathroom. Tony crouched next to him, patting his back and stroking his hair.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Get it all out.”

“It tasted so good,” said Steve weakly.

“I know. I know.”

+++

Once Steve had stopped throwing up, Tony took him to a food truck that served ice cream sandwiches. Steve bought one for each of them, but he took the sandwich part off of his and let Tony eat it. They sat on the sidewalk, and Tony ate his in a flash. Steve held his ice cream in between two fingers and licked delicately at it. The sun was hot in the sky, and the press hadn’t found them yet.

“Oh, no,” said Steve, “it’s dripping down my arm.”

“Yeah, that’s what ice cream does. That’s what it’s for. You should’ve eaten it when you had the chance.”

Steve popped the rest of the ice cream in his mouth. He started to lick his arm. Tony stared.

“Who raised you?” said Tony.

“My mom,” said Steve, licking. “And then the US government.”

“Oh, sure, blame the government.”

“Well, they did.”

“You’re what’s wrong with this country.”

Steve chuckled, still licking.

“Gee,” said Steve, adopting his Brooklyn Youth Voice. “That’s real nice of you to say, mister.”

“That’d be a lot more effective if you didn’t have ice cream all over your face.” Tony reached out to rub a bit of it off with his thumb. Steve closed his eyes.

“God, you’re like a cat,” said Tony.

Steve smiled crookedly. He leaned in and kissed Tony.

“Mm,” Tony mumbled against his mouth. “Ice cream.”

Steve pulled back. “Ulterior motives.”

“Never.”

“You’re using me for my ice cream.”

“I’m using you for your good looks, Captain,” said Tony. “The ice cream is a side benefit.”

“I guess I can live with that.”

“You know what’s funny?” said Tony. He looked out at the street. People had their phones out and were taking pictures. Tony and Steve were going to be all over Us Weekly.

“Yeah?”

“This is a kind of long and winding story, but I promise it has a point.”

“Sure.”

“I remember when I was a kid and my dad told me I was going to inherit the company when he died,” said Tony. “And I was really mad about it.”

“Really?”

“When I was a kid, that company was my worst enemy. I mean, I hated it. The thought that it was going to be my responsibility, and…the thought that one day my dad wouldn’t be there…”

Steve sighed.

“How old were you?” he said.

“Fifteen.”

“That’s young,” said Steve. “Heavy stuff for fifteen.”

“I was a mature fifteen year old. Anyway, we fought, he yelled a bunch of stuff, then he drove me to school.”

“You went?”

“Of course I went to school,” said Tony. “What do you think I am, some kind of cool kid?”

“Pretty much.”

“You clearly don’t know me at all.”

“I don’t,” said Steve.

“Shocked and betrayed, Rogers.”

“I want to.”

Tony smiled. He tipped his head back to look at the sun.

“I was an obedient kid,” he said. “I hated school, like everyone else. But I went. Every day. Did my homework, turned it in, got A’s. Wasted away inside.”

Steve chuckled.

“No, really,” said Tony, “because if I didn’t Dad got mad, and I wanted him to be happy. He already wasn’t happy, most of the time. But I remember that day, I got called out of my very first class and into the principal’s office, and he was there. He said there’d been an emergency, and he had to take me home.” He smiled sideways at Steve. “There hadn’t been an emergency.”

“No?”

“No. He took me out, we went to the arcade, we went bowling, we got burgers and extra fries and milkshakes. And then after all that we got ice cream. And he told me something I’ll never forget. He said, ‘son, when you’re CEO of Stark Industries, you’ll be able to have ice cream whenever you want.’”

Steve laughed.

“Did it work?”

“It worked,” said Tony. “I never looked back. And he was right. I can have ice cream whenever I want. And I’m not even CEO anymore.”

“Tony,” said Steve, “I was really sorry to hear about—”

“I know, I know,” said Tony. 

He sighed deeply. 

“It was…”

He paused.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” he said. “I wasn’t ready for it. They weren’t ready for it. It wasn’t supposed to happen. When I think back…all my regrets…all my problems…”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” said Steve.

“No,” said Tony, “that’s what happens. That’s what happens in life. You know, these things happen and you think, I don’t think I can go on. I think my life is over. But it isn’t, it just keeps going, and…you don’t think you can take it, you think you’re going to lay down and die, but you…you don’t die, maybe because you’re a coward, or whatever else, but…next thing you know you’ve kept living long enough that you could see living a little longer, or a lot longer, and pretty soon you’re eating ice cream with Captain America.”

“I’m not Captain America anymore,” said Steve.

“Right, and that’s the sort of shit that happens. That one thing you never thought you’d do, the one thing you couldn’t bear happening, it happens, and guess what? You bear it. Or maybe you don’t. And the things you think are going to last forever, they never last. One day I’m not going to be alive anymore. One day you aren’t either. Probably. We don’t know for sure.”

“No, we know,” said Steve. “It was the first thing Howard told me. First that it wouldn’t make me immortal, then that it wouldn’t change my penis size.”

Tony burst out laughing.


	17. pr brainstorming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is singing “Russian Drinking Song” by Aquarium. Translation sucks, but hey! You should all expect my terrible translations by now.

There were three couches in the TV room. Natasha and Clint sat on one. Steve and Bucky sat on another. Bruce and Sam sat on the third.

“Pepper, meet everybody,” said Tony. “Everybody, meet Pepper.”

“Nice to meet you all,” said Pepper. She smiled a professional smile.

“Pep has agreed to work around her very busy schedule so that she can be our PR consultant.” Tony frowned. “You’re back.”

“Hi,” said Bucky from his couch. Sam waved.

“I asked Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson to be here,” said Pepper.

“She paid us,” said Bucky, “a lot.”

“Because you were with the Avengers when they went to rescue Captain Rogers, the public sees you as one of them.”

“Lucky us,” said Bucky.

“SHIELD let you come?” said Natasha.

“I used my charms,” said Bucky.

+++

“Mariaaaaa…” Bucky whined.

“No.”

“Come onnnnnn—”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeeease—”

“For God’s sake, Barnes—”

+++

“They haven’t got me doing much. Blowing up HYDRA bases. I asked them if they’d mind if I hung out here, they said sure. I think they think I’ll get them some kind of valuable intel. Joke’s on them, you posers never do anything.”

He and Steve fist bumped.

“Okay,” said Tony. “Whole gang’s here. Okay.”

“Tony, why don’t I take over from here?” said Pepper.

“Yeah, good idea. Pepper’s going to handle it, everybody, listen up.” Tony went to sit down next to Steve, and Bucky moved his leg to take up the whole couch.

“Move over,” said Steve. “Tony’s got to sit.”

Bucky grumbled, but moved.

“Here’s the situation,” said Pepper. “The public hates you.”

“Oh, great,” said Bruce.

“The good news is a big part of that hatred comes from confusion. There was never any announcement or official mission statement saying what the Avengers were for, what their abilities were, what their bounds of authority were, or even what their names were. The most information about the Avengers they have is the stuff SHIELD leaked about Miss Romanoff a week ago. Since then, the press has caught on that people want to hear more, so they’re digging up all the dirt they can find and you haven’t released anything to counter or clarify it at all.”

“What do we do?” said Natasha.

“I think the Avengers should hold a press conference,” said Pepper. “Where we’ll explain everything. In order to do that, we need to prepare. Reporters are finding things every day about all of you. They will try to turn this into a story by catching one of you off guard with a question about something you weren’t aware of. If this is going to work, which it has to—the Avengers are completely dependent on public opinion in order to work properly—each of you needs to know every single thing about your teammates.”

She snapped her fingers. The elevator opened, and Dum-E rolled out with a poster board.

“Luckily,” she said, “I know enough about superheroes to know that honesty isn’t really your thing. So I’ve designed a system.” She took the poster board. “Thank you, Dum-E.”

Dum-E gave a happy whirr and wheeled away.

“We need to talk about your loyalties,” Tony yelled after him. 

“This poster board will be up in the TV room for three days and three nights,” said Pepper. “By the end of that time, I want each of you to have written every secret that could possibly be used against you on it. I don’t care how. It has to happen. You can’t hold anything back. The last thing we want is for this press conference to make things worse. Does anybody have anything they’d like to say upfront before we all clear out and give people some privacy?”

Steve stood.

“I’m quitting as Captain America,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” said Bucky, “the fuck?”

“I don’t want to be a fighter anymore,” said Steve. “I’m sorry for…disappointing all of you.”

There was a moment of silence.

“So,” said Clint, “you want to be our strategist? Or what?”

“What do you mean?” said Steve. “I could—I could do that?”

“Yeah, sure. Help us figure out battle plans, talk to us over comms when we’re in the field. You can be like Phil. You know, when he’s not. Fighting.”

A smile crept onto Steve’s face.

“That would be great,” he said.

“Awesome. You’re hired.”

“Hang on,” said Bucky, “Steve—“

“Steve,” Tony said over him, laying a hand on his elbow, “since you’re our new strategist, can I talk to you about a commlink design I’ve been tinkering with?”

“Sure thing.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

+++

“Thank you,” said Steve.

Tony intertwined their fingers. “No problem. Crash course on 80’s rock?”

+++

Sam was staying on one of seven guest floors. Bucky had the one above him.

He opened the door of Sam’s bedroom.

Sam jumped.

He stared.

“First of all—” Bucky began.

“Fuck you,” said Sam. “Fuck you so hard. Fuck.”

“Sorry?” said Bucky.

“That’s not a question,” said Sam. “You don’t go barging in here.”

“What do I do?”

“You text. You say, can I come over? Then I say, sure, and you say—”

“Too much effort.” Bucky flopped on Sam’s bed. “Nice. Cushy.”

“No, Barnes, listen. This is personal space. We covered this in the group. You text, I say sure, you say coming, you come, you knock. You knock, Barnes, and then I say, who is it? And you say, it’s me, Bucky, and I say, come in.”

“That would take ages.”

“It’s respectful.”

“Wilson,” said Bucky, “what if the building is on fire, and we need to get out? You want me to text then?”

“Creepy butler AI would tell me if the building was on fire.”

“Assume creepy butler AI shorted out. From the fire.”

“That’s not how AI’s work. Or fires.”

“Technicality.”

Sam sighed.

“If,” he said, “the building was on fire, and you were the only one who could tell me, then that would be an emergency. In which case the rules are different.”

“There we go. This is an emergency.”

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“An emergency?” he said. “Really?”

“Honest.”

“What’s the emergency?”

“I’m mad at Steve.”

“That’s not an emergency.”

“No, it is. It definitely is. Steve and I don’t just get mad at each other. We’re either mildly irritated, or it’s a full-on blow up and someone gets injured. And I’m not mildly irritated. Sam, I’m on total blow-up right now, and I need you to talk me down.”

“When you say blow-up—”

“Our last fight involved a Molotov cocktail. That was before the army.”

Sam eyed him.

“When you say involved—”

“I threw it.”

“Yeah,” said Sam, “okay, I…I should be more surprised right now.”

“No, you shouldn’t. You knew exactly what you were getting into when you became friends with me.”

“That is true,” said Sam.

“And you don’t even regret it.”

“What are you talking about? Yeah, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Every day.”

Bucky laughed. “Nah.”

“Why are you mad at Steve?” said Sam.

Bucky cracked his knuckles.

“Uh oh,” said Sam. “That seems ominous.”

“Context. 1930, it’s a cold day, walking to school, I meet Steve Rogers, I’m thirteen. He’s an asshole. He’s tiny. Some big kids kicking the crap out of him for his big mouth. I think, oh, I’ll save this helpless ten-year-old child. WRONG.”

The metal fist clenched.

“He was twelve,” said Bucky. “And an asshole.”

“Yeah, you said.”

“I say, you want me to walk you to school tomorrow? ‘Cause I’m nice like that. He says, no, I don’t need your help, I had it handled. Asshole. Next day. I meet Steve Rogers again, walking to school again. Big kids beating the crap out of him again. For his big mouth, again. I think I’ll save him again. Maybe he’ll be thankful this time. WRONG. Next day. He’s there again. Big kids kicking the—”

“I think I get it.”

“You don’t get it,” said Bucky. “You don’t. Every day for a month. Every single day. And finally, I say to him, why didn’t I ever see you before this month? And he says, oh, I thought I’d try a new route. There was a bunch of bullies on the other one.”

“Wow,” said Sam.

“Every day of my life, since that day, I had to get Steve Rogers out of a fight he shouldn’t have been in. He was literally able to do nothing, nothing good, for anyone, but he fought anyway, because that was the way he was. I thought that was the way he was. I thought, that’s just the way Steve is. Nothing to be done about it. Guess what. 1941.”

“World War II.”

“Guess what Steve did.”

“He tried to join, didn’t he?”

“Every booth,” said Bucky. “Every county, every city. Every goddamn state. He didn’t have the money for a car. He walked. He went on day trips to other goddamn states so he could apply for the military and get rejected again. Who does that? Steve Rogers. Because that’s the way Steve fucking is. I begged. I begged him. I said, it’s suicide. I said, you won’t be able to do anything for anyone because you are literally a hundred pounds soaking wet on a very generous scale. You lose your breath and have to sit down on a brisk walk. What the hell is wrong with you? And he looked me in the eyes and said, Bucky, I want to fight. Because that was the way he was. I think, well, nobody’s ever going to accept him—WRONG. And then I thought—they’ll keep him on the bench, it’ll be fine—WRONG. They gave him abs, they said, go out there and punch some stuff, and let me tell you, he did. And nothing got better after that, he didn’t want to sell war bonds, he wanted to fight, he wanted to take down HYDRA, and—”

Bucky sighed.

“He crashed a fucking plane into the ocean,” he said, “because that was the way he was. He was a total dumbass. Asshole. Idiot. And all he wanted to do was fight. To protect people. To do what he thought was right. By fighting. All the time. I would say, Steve, you can work in a factory! You can—I don’t know, there’s lots of things people can do to help, he says, no, Bucky, I want to fight. And now that man has the audacity to stand up in front of me, in front of his team, who need him, in front of God himself—he has the nerve, the absolute fucking balls to tell us all that he doesn’t want to fight?”

Bucky cackled.

“I get that,” said Sam. “I get it. But war changes people.”

Bucky stared at him.

“It’s his decision to fight or not,” said Sam.

“Yeah. And he made it. He fucking volunteered.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“He signed up for this,” said Bucky. “I didn’t.” He stabbed at his chest. “Sam, I didn’t. It’s not a long time for him, it’s a long time for me. I signed up for a war, and that was one thing, but instead of that I got seventy years of hell. I followed Steve Rogers until I died, and then I fought. I fought for days. For years. For him. Trying to remember for him. Not knowing where he was, or what had happened to him. And now he wakes up and it’s like I don’t know him at all. It’s like he didn’t fight for me at all.”

“He thought you were dead,” said Sam. “That…that hits hard—”

“I know death hits hard, Sam,” said Bucky.

“You’re never the same after that.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed.

“Okay,” he said, “you’re not helpful at all.”

“You said you wanted me to talk you down.”

“I meant sympathize. Obviously.”

“And I do. I just think—“

“Forget it. I’m going to talk to Nat.” Bucky stood, and the bed sprang up at the sudden loss of his weight.

“Text her first,” said Sam.

“Not going to do it.”

“Personal boundaries—“

The door shut behind Bucky’s retreating back.

+++

Bucky stalked into the plant room. Natasha was watering her cactuses and singing softly to them in Russian.

“Все говорят, что пить нельзя,”  _ everyone says you can’t drink, _

“А я говорю, что буду. ”  _ and I say that I will. _

Bucky snorted.

“Water instead of vodka?” he said. “ Трус.”  _ Coward. _

Natasha laughed.

“Steve, am I right?” she said. “So annoying.”

Bucky let out a breath. “I thought I was insane.”

“Of course you are.” She gestured distractedly to the table and chairs. “Sit. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Bucky smiled.

He sat and watched as she shifted her attention to the poinsettias, still singing.

“Я не хотел тянуть баржу  _ I didn’t want to pull the barge _

Поэтому я хожу-брожу  _ Therefore I walk-wander _

Если дойду до конца земли  _ If I reach the end of the earth _

Пойду бродить по морю  _ Gonna wander the sea _

Если сломается аппарат  _ If the device breaks _

Стану пиратом и буду рад  _ Become a pirate and be glad _

Без колебаний пропью линкор  _ Without hesitation I will drink the battleship _

Но флот не опозорю…”  _ But the fleet will not disgrace… _

“Communist,” said Bucky.

“American,” said Natasha.

+++

Sam squinted up at the ceiling.

“Uh,” said Sam. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Mr. Wilson?” said JARVIS.

“If I wanted to, um, talk to Captain Rogers…how would I…”

“You’d be in luck. He just left Sir’s room and is on his way to the gym facilities, which are on the 23rd floor and are otherwise unoccupied.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.”

“Of course.”

+++

Steve Rogers was beating the crap out of a punching bag. He looked up when Sam walked in.

“Sam Wilson?” he said. He reached out a wrapped-up hand. Sam shook it. “Steve Rogers.”

“Can’t believe I’m finally meeting you in the flesh. I’m honored, Captain.”

“Honor’s mine.”

Sam smiled. “Nah.”

“Thank you for helping to save my life,” said Steve.

“Oh, I did nothing.”

“Not what I hear. And, uh…” He clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, then withdrew it awkwardly. “I’m really grateful that you’ve been there for Bucky.”

“He’s a pain in the ass,” said Sam. “I’ll accept that praise. He’s hard damn work.”

Steve chuckled.

“Actually, that kind of—I don’t know if he told you, but we met through a veterans group I run.”

“Oh,” said Steve.

“And I wanted to, I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to say…God, what was I going to say—um, I have a card. Business card.”

Steve hesitated.

“You don’t have to take it,” said Sam.

“I,” said Steve. “I don’t know. That’s, that’s really kind, I—” He sighed. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, I got something else for you. What’s your interest level in books on pacifist theory?”

Steve’s eyes widened.

“High,” he said.

Sam grinned.

“Okay,” he said, “you got a pen and paper?”

“Uh—no—” Steve looked guiltily around. “But, you know, you tell me, I’ll probably—”

“Ah, right. Talking to a super soldier. Jot these down in the old mind banks, they’ll just get you started.”

+++

“Captain Rogers is requesting permission to enter the workshop.”

“Let ‘im in.”

The door opened.

“Tony?” said Steve.

“What’s up, Captain Gorgeous?”

“I have a really stupid question.”

“No question is too stupid. Fire away.”

“How do I…post things? On the Internet?”

+++

“Hi,” said Steve to the camera. “Um. You’re watching Philosophy with Steve. I’m Steve.”

He paused.

“My boyfriend, uh, T—Terence—taught me how to make videos, and he told me about all the different—social media platforms? And he said Facebook is social media for old people, and, uh, I’m old. So I thought I’d give this the old…old school try.”

PHILOSOPHY WITH STEVE flashed across the screen in red, white and blue, adorned with exploding fireworks. It zoomed away.

“He made me that,” said Steve. “A logo. He’s really good with this stuff. He’s trying to teach me to draw on computers? I don’t know. If I could figure that out, it would be cool. But, anyway. Welcome to Philosophy with Steve.”

He shuffled through the stack of books on his desk, took a deep breath and let it out.

“Today we’re going to talk about the need for a pacifist America.”

+++

Two women argued in a hallway a long way away.

"Er steht unter dem Befehl von SHIELD."  _ He is under orders from SHIELD. _

"Was halten sie über ihn?"  _ What are they holding over him? _

"Alles, was er jemals getan hat."  _ Everything he ever did. _

"Das wissen wir auch. Was ist das Problem?"  _ We know that too. What is the problem? _


	18. respectful debate

“Hi. I’m Steve.”

“I’m not Steve,” said Tony. “And you’re watching—“

“Philosophy with Steve,” they said in unison.

The logo played. A burst of cartoon fireworks, music going duh, duh duh, duh duh, DOO DAH, and then PHILOSOPHY WITH STEVE. An eagle with a shield and a smug expression swooped in and perched on the right of the words.

“I updated it a bit,” said Tony.

“Wow,” said Steve. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Now, lest my skills as a social media advisor be impugned, I need to set the record straight. I did not advise Steve here to use Facebook.”

“I decided on Facebook.”

“I tried to give him a choice,” said Tony. “Which was a mistake.”

“But I got a couple of viewers,” said Steve.

“Yeah, I didn’t know that fifty thousand people got on Facebook in the space of a day.”

“And most of you folks guessed who Terence was.”

Tony waved.

“Tony and I are experimenting with a livestream today—”

“You’re experimenting.”

“I’m experimenting. I thought we could do a little joint video to publicize the press conference we have later today. And you all should come. Free tickets, we might have a bit of food afterwards and a meet and greet.”

“We’re going to do a debate,” said Tony.

“A respectful one.”

“Respectful debate.”

“Tony and I are going to take opposite sides on superhero issues, questions you may have about the morality of superheroism, and because both of us have a bit of a complicated personal stake in these issues, we’re going to adopt alternate personas that have no connection to them whatsoever. I’m, um.” Steve picked up a baseball cap off of his desk. “Chris.”

Tony wrapped a pink feather boa around his neck. “I’m Einstein.” He winked at the camera.

Steve stared at him.

“Wait, like literally Einstein, or—”

“No, the name.”

“Okay. ‘Cause Einstein would have a whole set of biases—”

“I’m not Einstein,” said Tony.

Steve grinned.

“Made you say it,” he said.

“I hate you.”

“We got it on tape.”

“You fooled me.”

“Tony Stark, being humble, everybody. Remember this moment.”

Tony cackled.

“Let’s start this off with a short brainstorm session,” said Steve. “Think of an issue, send it in. We’ll compile a list of about 10 of our favorites and go from there.”

“And if you have any burning questions,” said Tony, “for me, or for—Chris—comment those too.”

+++

“Okay,” said Steve, “so here’s the list we’ve got so far.”

“You want to take turns?” said Tony.

“Sure, why not.”

Tony handed him the list.

“Are we really dating?” said Steve.

“No,” said Tony. “No, we’re not. Why would anybody think that?”

“I told them we’re dating.”

“He lied.”

“Hey, c’mon.”

“I’m using him for his looks.”

Steve looked at the camera.

“He’s using me. That’s good to know.”

“Can you blame me? The guy’s gorgeous.”

Tony whistled.

“Agreement from the Interwebs,” he said.

“Agreement and anger,” said Steve. “Guys, he’s kidding.”

“Totally kidding.”

“I’m using him,” said Steve.

Tony glanced over at him. “For my money?”

“Yeah.”

“And my looks.”

“Pretty much.”

“Aww,” said Tony.

He looked down at the list.

“We have an issue,” he said.

“Oh, good.”

“Should superheroes kill people?”

“Okay,” said Steve. “Does Einstein—does Einstein think superheroes should kill people? Or—”

“Absolutely,” siad Tony.

“Okay.”

“Kill all the people.”

Steve shot him a look. “Well, only people who—”

Tony adjusted his boa. “Argue your own side, Chris.”

+++

“See, I think what we’re disagreeing on is really the role of superheroes,” said Steve. “You know, in the world. Because you think of them as an offensive, kind of, task force, and I think of them as purely defensive.”

Tony snorted. “You would, Mr. Captain—uh. Chris. Chris, I don’t think you’ve understood my argument.”

“Oh, really?”

“I do think of superheroes as playing a defensive role. Superheroes are people’s last line of defense. When the American public, or the Earth, as the case may be, has a threat that no one can handle—a superhuman threat, because powered people can wish harm on others—”

Steve jerked a thumb at Tony.

“Saw that. Respectful debate, Rogers—Chris. Or aliens, or—something else, you know, something we can’t possibly predict, and people are in danger, people are dying—we come in—”

“You mean they,” said Steve.”

“Right, they.”

“Einstein.”

Tony giggled.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry—uh, they. Superheroes, their job is to come in to save people when they can’t save themselves. Defense is their highest priority. Above their own personal morality. Above keeping their hands clean, they have a responsibility to keep people safe in the moment—”

“An extreme emergency situation.”

“Right.”

“That makes sense.”

“Thank you.”

“But how do you qualify an extreme emergency? Who decides if it’s an extreme emergency?”

“The people do,” said Tony.

“The people are going to call in superheroes to resolve religious conflicts and destroy whole nations that are pissing them off. And they’ll call that an extreme emergency.”

“Well, obviously the superheroes will have some say.”

“The superheroes will be worse,” said Steve. “The superheroes are fallible. They’re human. They have stakes. They have biases. They have—”

“They’ll be above that. They’ll be like the Supreme Court. Sworn to protect and defend impartially. And kill if they have to, in defense of the innocent. If there are no other options.”

Steve shrugged.

“All right, then,” he said. “You heard it here first, folks. Superheroes are like the Supreme Court.” He looked down at the list. “Uh…kiss, marry, kill with the Avengers. Clint, Natasha, Bruce.” He pulled a face. “This isn’t fair.”

“I think it’s a great question.”

“Well, what would you do?”

“You first.”

“Kill Clint, kiss Natasha, marry Bruce,” said Steve. “You?”

“Kill Clint, kiss Bruce, marry Natasha.”

“Marry Natasha?” said Steve. “You’d be dead in a month.”

“An honor to die by her hand,” said Tony.

Steve chuckled.

“Poor Clint,” he said.

“His fault for being an asshole.”

+++

“Before we go,” said Tony, “Pepper says we need to go over everything on the list. So, quietly, we’ll pass it around, and each of us will read through it. No reactions, no judgement. I’ll go first.”

He scanned it.

His eyes went wide.

“Holy hell,” he said. “This says ‘killed JFK.’”

“Oh, yeah, that’s me,” said Bucky.

+++

The car ride to the press conference was full of laughter and people talking over each other. At some point, Clint tried to order a pizza, and Natasha tossed his phone out of the window.

+++

The room was packed. The flash of cameras and screaming of reporters was constant and blinding, like an ever-shifting monster of light and sound.

“Agent Romanoff.”

“Natasha, please,” said Natasha. “I’m not an agent anymore.”

“So we hear. How would you respond to people who worry that you’re not qualified to make moral decisions?”

“I would say that having been forced to perform amoral acts for most of my life—including during my time under SHIELD—I’m especially qualified to understand what kind of people we’re up against, and I’m even more driven than my teammates to do what’s right in order to make up for my past.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your opinion?”

“I stand behind Natasha one hundred percent.”

+++

“How can you possibly hope to control the Hulk?”

“The Hulk is a self-aware being,” said Steve. “And it’s possible for people with our skill sets to communicate with him. We’ve worked out an arrangement. Bruce is far less dangerous thanks to being an Avenger than he would have been otherwise. The Hulk wants to do good, and he is just as much a member of the team as Bruce is.”

“Is it possible that he’s tricking you?”

“He has the IQ of a toddler. He’s not equipped to manipulate any one of us.”

+++

“What, exactly, do you add to the team?”

“I’m not on it,” said Sam. “I joined one time to—”

“What did you add to the team? What’s your superpower?”

“Don’t have one. I have wings. From the my time in the US Air Force. And I used them once, to rescue Captain America.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

Sam levelled a glare.

“He’s alive. He’s not working for HYDRA. I don’t see anybody else complaining.”

+++

“How would you respond to evidence that Bucky Barnes killed JFK?”

“Three things,” said Tony. “First. Bucky Barnes is not an Avenger. As we have said multiple times through this interview—”

“Then why is he here?”

“So that we could clear that up. He’s not an Avenger. Secondly, he was the Winter Soldier while JFK was alive, not Bucky Barnes. Thirdly, that’s a fucking lie. Who told you that?”

“Recent files released by—”

“You got lied to, buddy.”

“Released by HYDRA.”

“Excuse me,” said Tony, “you do know what HYDRA’s about, don’t you? You’re going to trust HYDRA? Barnes didn’t kill JFK.”

“How would you respond to the evidence that the Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria Stark?”

Tony’s face went blank. 

It split open into a Howard Smile. Blinding like a camera flash.

He leaned down into the microphone.

“Lie,” he said lightly.

“Mr. Stark—”

“No more questions.”

+++

The car ride back was almost completely silent. 

Clint cracked some jokes, and there was some tense, scattered laughter, mostly from Bucky. Tony stared out of the window. No one tried to talk to him.

+++

They filed into Stark Tower with throngs of reporters following close behind. The door slammed shut, and there was silence. The reporters crowded around the other side of the glass.

Tony walked over to the elevator and pressed the button. The elevator doors slid open. 

He stood there, stock still, for a long moment.

“Hold that for me, JARVIS,” he said.

He turned halfway to face the Avengers.

“Did you?” he said.

Bucky took a step back involuntarily. 

“Tony,” he said, “you’ve got to understand—”

“You have ten minutes,” said Tony.


	19. iron man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: friend v. friend fighting, threats of violence, scattered swearing. References the death of family members and some unfortunate secrets being kept.**

“I don’t understand,” said Sam.

“I’ll go talk to him,” said Steve. “Try to head him off.”

“What do you mean, you’ll talk to him?”

“We have to get you out of here,” said Natasha.

“I’ll call in some favors,” said Clint.

“Nat,” said Bucky, “one to ten, how bad is it?”

She shook her head. “It’s Tony.”

“Bucky, what’s going on?” said Sam. “You—you didn’t actually—I mean—“

Bucky avoided his eyes. 

“What’s Tony?” he asked.

“Three thousand,” said Natasha.

+++

Steve ran down the hallway.

“JARVIS,” he said, “lock down Tony’s workshop.”

JARVIS’ voice was cold. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Captain Rogers.”

“Override code 43684.”

“Override code overridden.”

“What?” said Steve. “How?”

“I am permitted to override anything if I deem it necessary, Captain Rogers. Sir trusts me above anyone else.”

Steve slowed.

“JARVIS,” he said, “please—“

“Sir is on his way. I would advise you to move.”

Steve stood. He planted his feet far apart and held up his chin.

Tony came around the corner. He had a suitcase in his hand.

+++

Natasha was pacing.

“You should hide out at SHIELD headquarters for now. We’ll clear out too, all hide in different places. If we try to fight him, people are going to get hurt. Sam, you should go under the radar.”

“I still don’t understand what’s happening,” said Sam.

“Okay,” said Bucky. “Here’s what’s happening. I killed his parents. So now he’s going to kill me. You need to get somewhere safe.”

Sam stared at him.

“I’m sorry, but you knew what you were getting into,” said Bucky.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I am sorry. I—”

“Stay safe, Barnes.”

He pulled Bucky into a hug. Bucky’s metal fingers clutched at Sam’s shirt. Sam closed his eyes.

“Guys,” said Bruce, “Tony said ten minutes. It’s been three minutes already.”

“Go,” said Natasha. “Go, go.”

+++

Tony faltered when he saw Steve.

“Can we talk?” said Steve.

“Nothing to say, Cap,” said Tony.

“Please, Tony,” said Steve. “I know it’s hard, but—”

Tony’s jaw hardened. He started walking again.

“You have to—”

“Get out of the way,” said Tony.

“I won’t let you hurt him.”

Tony’s face was set.

“What are you going to do?” he said. “Fight me?”

Steve swallowed.

“Didn’t think so,” said Tony.

“Tony—”

Tony pointed his fist at the ground. A beam shot out of his wrist, and for a moment the floor around his feet turned to shimmering liquid, and he fell through, leaving no trace.

+++

Tony stood. The lobby was empty. 

“JARVIS,” he said.

“Yes, sir?”

“Where’s Barnes headed?”

“New SHIELD headquarters. I’m sending the address to the suit. But he won’t be there long. You’ll have to move quickly.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.”

“Of course, sir.”

+++

When Tony arrived, the headquarters of the New SHIELD were deserted. The door hung open.

“You’re sure this is the right place?” he said.

“Absolutely, sir,” said JARVIS.

He took a step inside. The lobby was typical of a dentist’s office, with scattered knickknacks and half-finished paperwork on the reception desk.

“Do a quick scan for me, JARVIS. He might be hidden somewhere.”

“One life form,” said JARVIS. 

“Oh, amateur hour—“

“Located in the upper floors.”

“Upper floors? This is a one-floor building.”

“No, it is not.”

Tony chuckled.

“SHIELD,” he said. “Their gadgets, their little tricks. Never fail to amuse. Which way do I go, JARVIS?”

“There appears to be some kind of concealed entrance in the bathrooms.”

“Luckily, I know how to speak Parseltongue.”

+++

In an out-of-order stall was a keypad designed to look like part of the wall.

“Ooh, fun, keypads. Gotta love a keypad. Let’s see…four numbers…3879 spells Fury—“ The screen flashed red. “Oh, right, Hill hated him. What else do we have…Jarvis, do a fingerprint scan for me, that’s a dear.”

“Excessive use of 2, 4, 6, and 7.”

“Oh,” said Tony. “That would have to be—“

He breathed out.

He shook his head to clear it.

“It has to be,” he said. “It says four numbers, but it’s a trick. It’s got to be.”

He punched in 6, 2, 7, 4, and just as the keyboard went red he added a 2.

The keypad flashed green.

“Oh, Hill, you wonderful woman,” said Tony. “Of course you made the passcode Maria. Oh, you must hate that I’m here mucking everything up…”

The wall melted away to reveal an elevator. Tony stepped inside.

“Oh, you need a keycard?” he said. “Come on.”

He pressed a few buttons on the Iron Man glove, held the palm up to the sensor, and it beeped.

“Ameteur hour. Seriously.”

The elevator began to rise.

+++

The SHIELD headquarters bit of SHIELD headquarters was as empty as the rest.

“I need constant scans, JARVIS,” Tony murmured. “He could be anywhere.”

“Scanning, sir.” JARVIS paused. “The life form is located in a room down the hall, to your left, what appears to be some kind of office.”

+++

“You,” said Tony.

Natasha had her boots up on Director Maria Hill’s desk. Her eyes glittered.

“Hi, Tony,” she said.

“You’re helping him.”

“—Is what you would say if it was a surprise to anybody.” She rolled her eyes. “And this isn’t me helping him. This is me taking one last look at the man who broke the Avengers.”

“Did you know?” said Tony quietly.

“That he killed them?” She smiled, thin and a little sad. “Of course I did.” She looked him up and down. “For a while there, I thought it would be Banner that ruined it. I should have suspected you. Tony Stark. Always so sure you know what’s right. They get those ones second. They get the followers first, and then the leaders follow. The followers bring the leaders to their knees.”

“If you tell me where he is,” said Tony, “no one has to get hurt.”

She smiled.

“That’s what they all say,” she said. “Murderers. Dictators, cheats and liars. Old, sweaty men that get what they want. Step aside, and no one else gets hurt. Give me what I want, and that’ll be enough. But it’s never enough. And they never stop. The only thing you can do is stand, and look them in their eyes and say, no. You move.”

“Pretty speech,” said Tony. “Little homage at the end there.”

“I know my audience.”

“Barnes is dangerous. You know that.”

“So are you.”

“If we’re both dangerous, why are you protecting him?”

“I’m protecting both of you,” said Natasha. “I’m protecting everyone.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m here to broker peace.”

Tony’s lips twitched up. “No, you’re not.”

“Would it help if I said Steve sent me?”

“Did he?”

She shrugged, eyes sparkling. “Maybe.”

“What deal are you suggesting?”

“We’ll work it out. First, you have to agree. That you want peace. Everyone wants to fix things, Tony. We’re on your side.”

She stretched out a hand.

“Please,” she said.

Tony hesitated.

“This better not be some kind of lie,” he said.

He took her hand.

Electricity coursed like quicksilver through his body. He screamed. The Iron Man suit crackled and spasmed and twitched. Then it froze.

He tried to move. He couldn’t.

Natasha laughed.

“Have fun with that one, Stark,” she said. “Ameteur hour.”

As she walked away, she said into her earpiece, “You have ten minutes, tops. Get him on that plane and get it off the ground right now.”

+++

“JARVIS?”

No answer.

“JARVIS?”

Tony had planned for the eventuality of being trapped in his suit. Of course he had. After the narrow escape from the HYDRA base, he had installed a lever in the side of the chest plate that, if pulled, would disassemble the suit immediately. He hadn’t thought too hard about how he would actually get to that lever. Some kind of business with dislocating his wrist, breaking a few bones, that whole thing.

Tony winced in anticipation.

The armor was as good as skintight. He managed to pull his hand out of the glove and his whole arm back about a foot with a great deal of pain, but not an unreasonable degree of difficulty. 

He sighed.

“I really liked those bones,” he said.

+++

By the time Clint arrived, the office was empty.

“Tony?” he said. “Tony…come on. I know you haven’t gotten far.”

The sound of the repulsor behind him, and he whirled.

Tony was out of the suit, breathing hard, one arm limp. The boots of the Iron Man suit on his feet, and a glove on his other arm, which was pointed at Clint. Somehow, probably through sheer determination, he had gotten them to work again after Natasha’s bug. 

“Hey, there,” said Clint.

“All of you,” said Tony. “You’re all in on this.”

“We’re working together. ‘Cause we’re a team. And you’re not rational right now.”

“I am—fucking rational—”

“Yeah, it’s that kind of thing that makes us think—”

“You’re here to distract me.”

“Hell, yeah, I am. I’m the perfect distraction.”

“Didn’t work out the way you wanted it to, though, did it? I have the upper hand.”

Tony took a step forward. Clint took a step back.

“I fire this,” said Tony, “you’re dead.”

“So?”

“So tell me where Barnes is.”

“You’re not going to kill me, Tony,” said Clint.

“Fucking try me,” said Tony. “Why don’t you. Why don’t you test me. Just try it. Just fucking try it.”

“Sure,” said Clint. He stepped forward so that the repulsor brushed his chest. “I triple-dog-dare you to kill me. If you don’t kill me, you’re a pathetic little shit and I’ll never listen to another word you say. You kill me right now. You kill me like a man, you fucking coward.”

Tony stared.

“Holy shit, Barton,” said Tony.

“You don’t know me,” said Clint. “That’s your problem. See, that kind of thing might work on Natasha if you managed to get the upper hand. You’d still end up dead, but it would work for a second. But me?” He shook his head. “I would die laughing in your face before I’d betray my team. Bitch.”

Tony breathed out.

“Okay,” he said.

Then he shot Clint in the chest.

Clint slumped. Tony caught him one-handed and eased him onto the floor.

“Knockout settings, buddy,” he said, patting him on the head with a gloved hand. “Sweet dreams.”

He pried the commlink out of Clint’s ear—it was a cheap SHIELD comm—and crammed it into his own. Voices filtered through.

“Hawkeye, if you can hold Iron Man off for five more minutes we’ll have him safely in the air. Over.” Sam’s voice. “Widow, get over here. I need you to help me figure out this thing. Over.”

“Working on it. Where’s the passage? Over.”

“You’re—” Barnes’ voice. Tony tensed. “You’re going to want to go to the very end of the hall, lift up the end of the carpet there, there’s some kind of a—thingamajig—pull the thingamajig, ladder comes down. Climb the ladder, you’ll be on the roof.”

Tony set off.

+++

Tony reached the end of the hallway. He lifted the end of the dusty red carpet. Underneath it was a polished, gleaming lever.

“I’m on the roof,” said Natasha. “Over.”

He wrenched the lever up, and a metal ladder descended from the ceiling.

“I see you,” said Sam. “Get in here and help me. I think I’ve figured out how to take off, but I need your help to take off without immediately crashing. Over.”

Tony started to climb.

“I’m in,” said Natasha. “Let’s get in the air.”

+++

‘The roof’ was a gigantic helipad. On it was a single quinjet.

Standing at attention in front of the quinjet was a figure dressed in red, white and blue.


End file.
